Commitment Issues
by IHKF
Summary: Last of the Betrayal series, uploaded on AO3 first. It's the club's senior year of high school, and the road ahead of them isn't quite as bright or foggy as they were hoping it'd be. The final member of Conall's trio is making their first strike- and the club won't walk away from this war unscathed.
1. Chapter 1

"Happy birthday!"

Spender squealed and reached a hand to his chest, clutching the white cloth of his business shirt tightly in his pale fingers. It'd been an awfully long day at work, what with final exams approaching faster than he'd seen them coming, and he'd been less than prepared to have a long grueling talk with his older master. The call had been last minute- very normal for Master Guerra. Spender was anticipating an hour-long conversation at least, more than likely regarding the older man's upcoming retirement. The teacher had no reason to expect shining lights with streamers or banners with the same old traditional mantra of "Happy Birthday" that he'd heard every year. With a grimace, he ran his other hand down the skin of his face, feeling his own hot air when he groaned. "I hate surprises."

A familiar laugh came from behind one of the training dummies- dummies that were becoming increasingly worn with every year that passed. Guerra still hadn't replaced them, though the time would come soon judging by the holes in the hay and the fading bullseye marks. It was just a matter of where the money was, and money was certainly tight. "Which is exactly why we threw you a surprise party!"

"Isabel…"

She flashed him a smile as she made her way over. She was a woman, now, turning eighteen in less than a month after the day. She wore it on her face- confidence, power, and experience. When she walked she strode. Isabel wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him. As much as he wanted to stay irritated, his frown was falling fast. "Isabel, your hair is in my face. You need to cut it."

"Oh shut it, old man."

That ponytail she'd always worn as a child had become something of her default look. Even with the height of her chosen style, it reached the entire length of her lower back. She'd been refusing to cut it for some reason- and when asked about it she wouldn't say. Isabel's typical response was "noses belong on your face, not in other people's business", so they'd all chosen to leave it at that. That didn't stop Max from teasing her about becoming an amazon. He wasn't wrong, after all. She was a brick house that nobody could hope to knock over- well, she was becoming one.

"Old man?"

"Well, you're thirty-two, now!"

"That doesn't mean I'm old!"

"Sure it does!" Spender jumped at the heavy hand on his back, startled by the weight even though he was well aware of the strength in Ed's arms. He hated himself for being so shocked every time Ed laid a hand on him. He should have been used to it. "You're a regular elderly civilian now!" While Ed was still lean compared to Grandpa Guerra, he was by no means unfit. It wasn't the most visible strength but, under the normal scrawniness of the teenage boy he was, there was a trained power in him- a force to be reckoned with behind his spirited appearance. His rounded face had hardened into a firmer jawline where he had a shadow growing that Isabel hated. The boy still loved to make jokes nobody understood at inopportune moments, and he lived to make fun of Isaac, but there was no question that he was a man at heart. When the moment called, Ed was perhaps one of the most productive agents the consortium had. He had a record of finished jobs that made eighteen-year-old Spender's record look embarrassing. Of course, he still hadn't shaken the habit of skipping out on training and Spender doubted he ever would.

"Perhaps in comparison to you…"

Behind his glasses, Ed's eyes lit up. He flashed a large white smile at the acknowledgement that yes, he was still young! He'd forever be young compared to Spender! Infinite old man jokes! Gazing upon his sudden giddiness was akin to watching a puppy's eyes follow the bone waving above its face.

"Happy birthday, sir."

"Hah hah, bet that mid-life crisis is coming up soon. Plan on purchasing then destroying any exceptionally expensive vehicles? Give Suzy a huge scoop? Bet she needs it."

As Isabel stepped back and Spender could finally see outside of his peripheral vision, Isaac and Max came into view. Isaac clutched a neatly-wrapped box in his arms- presumably a gift if Spender wasn't too audacious. The red-head had become tall enough, but stopped growing at around his sophomore year. He wasn't as lean as Ed was, but he wasn't particularly large- just a little thicker at his waist. Max had a good inch on Isaac, and was broader than him in the shoulders. The beginnings of muscles were forming on his arms, and Spender felt confident in assuming it was his training with Master Guerra. He'd only just started a few years back, but the results were evident in battle. "Very funny, Max." Spender smiled sardonically, for which Max gave a bow.

"Really? Ya know, it's all just natural. It just comes to me, ya know?"

"That's the only thing that does, I bet."

Max stuck his tongue in his cheek, head turning to Isaac, who wore a smug, shit-eating grin that stretched from one ear to the other. Isabel and Ed broke into nasally, obnoxious laughter. In such a situation, Spender couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable. He'd watched the kids grow and become competent adults- and he had faith in them- but if he looked their way he'd never see anything but the same group of giggly, dramatic twelve-year-olds they once were.

"Children, please refrain from making such inappropriate jokes in my presence. While you are well old enough to have knowledge of such activities I" he pulled at the collar of his shirt and coughed "would prefer to pretend you didn't."

Isabel snickered and wrapped an arm around Spender's shoulders, squeezing him. "Yeah guys, respect your elders! Censoring ourselves is important! He's from a different time, you know?" It was her way of letting him know they were messing with him, and he'd grown to accept that as a form of apology over the years. Spender rolled his head to the side and made a show of groaning.

"Isabel…"

* * *

"I can't believe he's already in his thirties."

Max snorted. "He's been in his thirties for two years now, Ed." Ed ignored him and held his red cup to his lips, savoring the taste of the grape soda that flooded his tongue. It was the last few drops of his cup and it would have been sacrilege to waste something so beautiful; he hardly understood why god would grace their simple race with its taste. "What happened to you, man? You stuck a few years behind? I knew you hit your head when you fell down that staircase last week."

"Shut up, dude." Max only laughed and dodged the punch that flew at his arm to the best of his limited seated ability. Something had been up with Max for most of the night, and it wasn't hard to tell. He kept glancing around the room with his eyes in some sort of deep trance, enough to creep Ed out. It was rare to see Max look so serious, let alone serious in a crowd full of people he could tease and snark at. Ed was happy to have had his attention for a few seconds, even if his friend fell back into the daze sooner than he would have liked. Max's deep brown eyes narrowed as they gazed over fellow dojo students, some spectrals from out-of-town (now that the train was finally in working condition- after five years of it being out of commission), and their friends.

Isaac was in the kitchen attempting to make sense of the organization of the utensils and the like. Little did the poor medium know there was no such organization and he would never manage to find a ladle for the punch bowl unless he wanted to dig through five different cabinets, a drawer and one shelf of the fridge. Isabel was off to the side, making conversation with Spender and Zarei by the training dummies. Her hands were moving faster than her lips as she avidly retold a story. From the looks of it, it was an embarrassing one, because Zarei's eyes lit up. The corner of her lips gave the slightest sign of tugging upward. Spender looked pale and ready to leave the conversation, and continued to make attempts to mingle with other people. Isabel would reach out, grab his arm, and ask him to stay. He always folded to her, something Ed was starting to refer to as the 'Isabel Effect'. "I guess it's weird, you know? I mean, we're eighteen now."

"Yeah… it's been a good six years, hasn't it?!" Ed sat up in his seat and lightly punched Max's shoulder, a little payback for the bruise he already felt on his skin. "I mean, in just the time that we were in middle school we took down, like, two big baddies! Isn't that awesome?!"

"If by awesome you mean terrifying and life-scarring, then sure."

Max rolled his eyes and knocked back the rest of his soda. He was leaning so far into his seat that the back of his neck almost touched the bottom cushion. It wasn't the most comfortable spot to be in, but Ed could tell there was most certainly a reason for his bad attitude. His trademark cynical frown curved downward, more-so than usual. It was both exasperation-inducing and food for curiosity. Ed was interested in a bite of the mystery fruit.

"Yeah! It was terrifying and life-scarring and you loved every minute of it."

Even with the coldness and stubbornness of Max Puckett, there was a glint behind his eyes that anybody who cared enough could see. It was always there, hiding in the corners of his eyes, and it never failed to give Max away. The batter glowered and glanced into the waves of spectrals lost in conversation. It could have been about anything, really- past adventures and complaints about coworkers and family members. "Whatever. Changing the subject."

Of course Max would, Ed mumbled to himself. It was just like him to desperately pile bricks back up on a wall already shattered. It was amusing to see him flustered and trying to pretend like he hadn't just been read in five seconds. It was, what Ed considered, Max's most endearing trait; it was the need to save face for the sake of others, no matter if everyone could tell he was being a martyr.

"What are your plans for after we graduate? You going to college or what?"

Ooooh boy. That was the one conversation Ed was not ready to have yet. He chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck, choosing to stare at the ground rather than Max's eyes. There was a lot going on in his head whenever that word came up. 'College'. It was a given for anybody who wanted to do anything. It was a buzzword. Kids threw it around all the time with no real plans, and Ed hadn't realized he was one of them until it was too late. "I mean, Isabel's going to college, so by default…"

"Mayview Community?"

"Pfft… we couldn't get into Mayview University! Those students are freaking insane." Mayview University was as close as any of them were getting to an Ivy League school. Well, it was as close as kids who wanted to stay home would come to one. The kids that got in, those who weren't rich anyway, were the kids that spent hours at night typing up the perfect essays. They were the kids that skipped lunch to go to tutoring, even though they really didn't need it. Basically, they were the kids with no life. Mayview Community was the easier, simpler, kinder choice for those who didn't want to be walking zombies that feasted on outdated books.

Max nodded in understanding. He finally sat up, and Ed took that as a good sign he was ready to be involved in a conversation. _Even if you really don't like the conversation_. "Any idea what you're majoring in?" Ed sucked on his cheeks and shrugged, to which Max snickered and patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, buddy. You'll figure out what you wanna do in college. That's what the first few years are for, ya know?"

"Yeah…" Ed rolled his empty cup around on the table, watching as it bent and conformed to his will. "Izzy's going in for literature. You?" If there was one thing about Eightfold that stuck with Isabel, it was an interest in books. Isabel never said a word about it to anyone outside of the club, but she did more reading than one would have expected. Sometimes he stayed up all night to greet the sun, only to pass by her room and find he hadn't been the only one. She was always there, a cute little ponytail on her head that she couldn't get out of her face, curled up against the headboard. There was always a book in her lap and an idle bookmark at her hip. The sun always came in just so from her window, enough to see one side of her face light up. She always had bags under her eyes on those mornings, but Ed hardly ever noticed it when she was focused on her reading. She never noticed him standing there. Sometimes he watched her until the sunrise had well passed, leaning against her door as blatantly as could be. Eventually he'd retreat to bed and leave her to read in peace.

"Eh, engineering, but I'm doing some parkour videos on the side." Of course, parkour exploits. They were Max's one true passion. Max always seemed to have a surplus of coins and the like on him, and it was, no question, because he made his money in tips. He spent any time away from the club performing on his bike, riding down staircase railings and skateboarding over public works of art. It was just what he did. On occasion he and the others worried about him and questioned if he had much of a will to live, but Max had shown them time and time again that he knew what he was doing. He did hurt himself on the rare event, but Isaac and Isabel were always there to patch him up. Isabel always offered jokes and fun but did little in the ways of working around hurting him. Isaac was much gentler, but his services came with a hefty lecture. Either way, Ed enjoyed watching Max get patched up.

"Sweet." Ed went to go take another sip of his soda, but realized when he tipped the cup above his lips there was no sweet artificial grape nectar. He'd forgotten completely that he'd been out, lost in conversation and contemplative thought. Bashfully, he raised his cup to Max's face, nodded to the kitchen, offering his best grin.

Max's eyes darted back and forth between Ed and the kitchen door before he swiped the cup out of Ed's hands ungraciously and parted with a "fine, you lazy ass."

* * *

"Yes, finally!" Isaac triumphantly held a black plastic ladle in the air, giddy that he'd found it all on his own in the mess that was the dojo's kitchen. How they managed to get by day-to-day with no means of telling this-from-that was beyond him. He prayed for Isabel's and Ed's future roommates. That was a hell he was glad he'd never know. He'd always understood his friends were disorganized, lazy human beings, but he hadn't thought them uncivilized- not until tonight. "Now to get this to the punchbowl before somebody decides to put their entire face in it." He was joking to himself, but he was ninety to eighty percent sure that he'd heard a story about one of the dojo's students doing just that. He was lucky if somebody hadn't already desecrated the punch bowl by the time he got back. Isaac backed away from the drawer that'd he'd had to dig through for a good five minutes, and was turning on his heel to make an escape when he crashed into another partygoer. With a shrill screech, Isaac dropped the ladle and slipped on his own feet, reaching for anything to catch himself. "Hah, finally found the ladle, huh?" What Isaac found under his hands was the warm cloth of a hoodie, a hoodie that belonged to a familiar face.

"Shut up, Max."

As much as Isaac tried to stand on his own, he found it an almost impossible task. His hands were clinging snugly to Max's neck, arms wrapped over his friend's shoulders as he tried desperately to straighten himself out. Max was laughing at him. He could feel it in the vibrations of his chest, a very well-toned chest if Isaac's latest memory of the public pool served. In fact, that was what he was concentrating on as much as he possibly could, because if he were to focus on anything else…

He jerked when Max laid his hands on his sides, pulling him up so that they were on eye-level.

"You can open your eyes, now."

Isaac peeked one eye open at Max, who was smirking at him from under the beak of his cap. "You know, for a guy who calls himself a man of justice, you're pretty slimy."

"Can you not make puns for one second? I swear, I can't go one second without you throwing shade at me."

Max tossed his head back and laughed, taking one hand off of Isaac's side to hold it against his stomach. Isaac swallowed heavily, fingers tapping where they sat at Max's neck. There it was again. Time after time he'd tried desperately to squash the feeling in his stomach, and when that didn't work he resorted to telling himself that he was just annoyed. Max was irritating. It was normal. He never let himself think- not for one second- that what he was feeling was anything else. It got tiring after a while, keeping up that conviction. It was like he was slowly losing hope of ever feeling anything different when Max laughed or smiled or snarked or basically did anything to exist.

His hands fell from Max's neck, sliding slowly and torturously down his friend's shoulders until he felt Max's chest against the palms of his hands. Isaac couldn't really tell if it was Max's heart or his own he was feeling, beating rapidly like it was beckoning him. There was, of course, the option that it was both. It wasn't the first time he'd felt their heartbeats fall in time. Most moments where he was sleeping close to Max or had fallen into him felt like that. Every time it was the same beckoning call, a sound Isaac could listen to for hours. It didn't mean anything, not necessarily. He and Max were best friends, after all.

Still, he recalled the feeling every time Max was near- holding his hand, the look in Max's eyes when they'd have only inches separating them, and more than anything the kinda-was-but-wasn't-really-but-it-kind-of-was kiss. Max could so much as whisper a joke in his ear and it'd make some pit in his stomach do flips, and sometimes it was harder to breath.

It was stupid. There was no way- no way. He'd made it very clear to Max that they were just friends and only friends at the end of their stay on the beach. Max, albeit reacted strangely, was ultimately unfazed, so Max wasn't interested either! What happened on the beach had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. He hadn't considered kissing him again, just to see how it felt, but he had done small things like spend time with him every chance he got and made borderline flirtatious jokes. He'd seen lots of movies where friends were like that, though. It was funny because it was true. It didn't mean Isaac was interested. It just meant he and Max were that close. Two friends act kind of flirty when they're that close because there were less walls.

That's what he told himself when he'd stare just a little too long at Max, who'd usually already turned away. That's what he told himself when Max would run a hand through his hair while he napped in his lap, and he'd almost nestle in if it wouldn't give away that he were awake. That's what he told himself when Max would make just the mildest suggestive joke and his heart would go skyrocketing. Max was just his friend. That was it. There was nothing else between them and there never would be. Isaac repeated the mantra to himself, even as he clenched Max's shirt between his fingers and pulled Max just a little closer, the top of his shoe nudging lightly against one of Max's. His lips tingled in curiosity, skin burning under his shirt where Max's hand still laid at his side. Max's name stung in his throat, fell at the edge of his tongue. He pulled Max a little closer still, trying to get his attention. As much as he loved Max's laugh (when it wasn't directed at him- which he supposed it was this time), he wanted Max to be doing something very different with his mouth right then.

Max blinked and sobered at the second tug. "You know, shade is a word used by people who know when to use it, Isaac. I hate to break it to you, but you are not one of those people." He pulled away from Isaac's grip without so much as blinking at the redness of his friend's cheeks and the proximity they'd had. Max picked up the ladle that lay dormant on the cold tile of the kitchen and held it out to Isaac, eyes still bright and full of humor. Isaac looked from Max to the ladle several times, blinking. When he didn't reach out to retrieve the ladle, Max snickered and pressed it against Isaac's nose. "You might wanna clean it before you go and put it in the punch bowl- fair warning."

Max pulled away with Isaac's head following him, the medium's mouth agape at the obliviousness of his friend. The reality of what he'd been contemplating came crashing down upon his sanity. If Isaac had been red in the face before, he was sunburnt by then. Max opened the fridge and took a grape soda out of the three twelve-packs inside, then turned around and walked straight out of the kitchen with only a "see ya" as parting words.

Isaac smacked himself in the face. Of all the stupid things he could have even considered doing-!

* * *

"And then he says he's glad that nobody was hurt, then- five seconds later-!"

"The spirit bit him."

"The spirit like just chomped on his shoulder and he was on the ground screaming. At the time it was kinda like 'oh well this may as well happen', but looking back, that was a really bad situation. Our old math teacher Miss Baxter walked in on us and everything."

"Did she, now?"

"Yep. And I've got my foot just going at this thing and Max has his bat out and we're just wailing on this spirit but to her it looks like, you know, we're beating Spender senseless. So she walks in and she freaks out and Spender" Isabel choked on her laughter, putting a finger up to signal for Zarei to wait "Spender just screams: 'I CAN EXPLAIN! THEY'RE HELPING ME! I WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN!' and Miss Baxter just bolts out the door, she's like, freaked out."

Zarei, reserved in nature, laughed as silently as she could. The chuckle was so silent, in fact, that Spender almost thought she was mocking him. "She wouldn't look Max in the eye for a week!" The party he'd assumed was a 'surprise party' was slowly turning into a roast- a roast he certainly didn't ask for. Isabel dug up some of the oldest and most embarrassing stories in the book to fling around.

Part of him was begging for any audience but Zarei, and another part of him was infinitely thankful that it was Zarei and only Zarei. That was better than Agent Walker or some of his other coworkers, he supposed. After all, he had appearances to keep, and his student feeling comfortable enough to share stories like that would not have looked good.

"My, Isabel," Zarei placed a graceful hand on her chest, playing with the necklace she'd decided to wear for the night "you have a lot of memories with Spender, don't you? Though I suppose that's only to be expected. You were his student for so many years."

Isabel nodded and straightened up, shoulders back. "Oh I have way more where that came from!" She said that, but her eyes were scanning the room. Spender wondered what she was looking for, but he answered his own question when he followed her gaze to Ed and Max. "But, I should probably leave him alone to go and mingle with other people. He still has to deal with me every day, so…"

Spender smiled and patted the hand that Isabel set on his shoulder affectionately. "I understand. Go talk to the rest of the club. We'll probably chat again later." He was beside himself with how close his students had gotten over the years. In the time he'd been their mentor he'd watched them grow out of their boxes and reach for each-other in ways he hadn't been quite expecting. Isaac smiled more often than he frowned, and Ed was more than ready to jump at anything he wasn't sure he could take on. When he couldn't, Isabel was confident enough to have his back. Max himself seemed to soften when in the company of his dear friends; he snarked less and felt more. Anyone else would have never seen a change, but there was something about the club that had Max at peace. Pride welled in Spender every time he thought about it. He considered himself a proud parent. The club was, after all, his creation. That made each of those kids his children, and they would never stop being his children.

"Thanks." Isabel leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Happy birthday! Don't get too drunk, you've still gotta drive yourself home."

"I would never drink so much, Isabel!" He called after her retreating back. "I'm not seventeen anymore!"

"Oooh, you drank at seventeen? And here I thought you were a goody-two-shoes." Zarei smiled up at him, eyelashes batting sardonically, as if to say her accusation was completely innocent and devoid of ulterior motive. Spender rolled his eyes, but offered Zarei his best smile. He was, after all, in a good mood.

"I had wine with dinner at most. Champagne on New Year's Eve. I was making a generalization about people who are seventeen. I, of course, was not one of those people at seventeen."

"Of course." Zarei raised her glass and took a sip of the red wine that just seemed to fit her. Dark and edgy and pretentious- but a ordinarily loved drink. "That's not to say you haven't passed that stage quite yet."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're thirty-two years old, Richard. I bet by next year you'll be jumping into a mid-life crisis."

"A mid-life crisis? That's not- that doesn't sound like me!" He was only thirty-two! People didn't go jumping into risky scenarios simply because another year passed! Though he supposed that was the part that made it a joke. She was joking. "That's not funny."

"Funny is subjective, Rick."

He grumbled.

Zarei's smile dropped, and whatever playfulness she'd had seeped away, out of his hands. "Rick, look at me."

He glanced her way, noting that it was worry in her eyes, not poison as he'd originally been expecting. Zarei did that often, beat his expectations into the ground. She was a woman of mystery, somebody he'd never been able to read, even in all the years that he'd known her. He could read her faces, sure. He could tell if she tried keep a secret, but he had no way of knowing what else she'd do. "It's seemed like something's been worrying you all night. Is there something wrong?" He thought about saying no, there wasn't anything wrong- and that was partly the truth. He was worrying about nothing, nothing that would matter for a long time, at least. It was silly. He was silly. Especially as a spectral, it was plain ridiculous to spend time questioning. It was Zarei, though, and any lie he tried to pass as truth would be transparent as glass. Spender frowned and gestured to the front door.

"I need some air. Care to accompany me?"

* * *

"So, now that we've been standing here in silence for a good fifteen minutes, do you mind telling me exactly what's on your mind?"

Zarei leaned opposite of Spender against the wooden wall of the dojo. She was bored enough to play with her drink, swaying her cup in circles just to watch the wine move within its den. She hadn't sipped from it in quite some time. She was trying to devote her attention to him, and he was wasting her time. "How do you know it's been fifteen minutes?"

"Your watch, Rick."

"Oh, right…" He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of just the right way to word his thoughts. It was something that went undiscussed in the shows on the television. People didn't want to think about it, and he could see why. The pondering he was left with, when he knew there were no real answers. It wasn't just frustrating- it was devastating. "Speaking of time, well" he paused and turned his eyes away from her blazing ones. Judgement eyes. That's what he'd called it when they were newbies. She'd always get that look, the look that made him talk even when he didn't want to. It was the twitch of her lips and the cock of her eyebrow. Zarei was an intimidating woman. "I've been thinking a lot."

"That's nothing new."

"Sort of- I've been thinking about death."

Zarei's eyes widened, the circles she turned her glass in slowed. "Death? Richard, you're thirty-two, not seventy."

"I know that."

"Then why is this something that's bothering you?" She paused, then continued. "We were joking about a mid-life crisis. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that!" He turned away from her to watch the empty fields of the training yard. The stars were out and bright, so bright they were almost a comfort. "It's just that death has been around every corner lately, Zarei. We're always in danger. My students are constantly in danger! Death isn't a distant concept. Of course I'm worried about my life- the lives of my students! Your life! The life of my child- if I live to have one! Dammit!" Rarely did Spender curse. It was a one-in-a-million chance that he would toss so much as the phrase 'gosh dang' on an off day. Zarei would need to be the calmer of the two, and they both knew it.

"This isn't about your line of work. This is about Conall's allies."

And there lied the center of it all. It'd been a question he'd always had, but it'd grown more persistent. After they'd returned from the beach, it was something in the back of his mind that he could think about while he brushed his teeth and waited to fall asleep. As the years passed, it became more of a hobby- sitting at his desk and mulling over where that illusive third ally was. Lately, it'd been on his mind constantly. He misspoke while teaching class, he wrote their name on history papers. It was getting to be too much. "We've still got one missing. There's still one out there, nowhere to be found, and we have no clue what they want."

"Conall and Velda made it very clear their motive was revenge, from what you've told me."

"I mean what else. It's been six years and they still haven't shown up. How are they planning to exact revenge? Who are they targeting first?"

He forced himself to take deep breaths. It was nice to take advantage of the winter air. A soothing hand found his shoulder and squeezed. The eyes of judgement were probably long gone, lost behind a familiar air of empathy. He couldn't bear to see those eyes casted at him. Usually he wasn't so damn pathetic. Well, it was a matter of time, he supposed. The fear had been wearing him down for years. It was all he could do to not snap with every lost train of thought and every answer at the tip of his tongue. It was weakness; it was submission to the unknown.

Death.

"We'll deal with them when they come around, Richard. Your students are strong- you are strong. When the time comes, we will win."

He nodded and set a hand on the one that squeezed his shoulder, pressing against it and leaning into the support.


	2. Chapter 2

"So how was Mister Spender's party?"

"It was awesome. Lots of roasting on Spender's end."

"Poor man. I bet Isabel didn't even give him a warning."

"Oh it was Max, too."

Cindy giggled and took a bite of one of the cookies that sat on a plate between herself and Ed, hoping it would provoke an interest in him. She'd made those cookies from scratch, although she hadn't said a word about it. They were the first edible thing she'd ever made, and that was only after months of practice. They probably weren't the healthiest, but they were cookies and they were chewy and they were good. She thought so, at least. If only she could get him to try them without violently shoving the plate in his face...

"That doesn't surprise me."

"Good, because it shouldn't."

Ed leaned over the table, resting on his elbows. He was eyeing the designs of her kitchen table almost apprehensively, his ankles locked together under the table as he stuck his tongue in his cheek. He'd been doing it for a while, long enough that she noticed the small crease in his brow when he grew silent. Cindy tilted her head and looked him over, eyeing his body when he fidgeted or took a deeper breath. He huffed and glanced up at her, a corner of his lips twitching up to fake a smile. "But, he went home early. So that wasn't very fun…" The crease was gone when he smiled or spoke to her, and part of her reveled in knowing she had that effect on him- if that's what was happening there. It might have just been how good he'd gotten at lying. He'd never admit it, as liars often didn't, but Ed was becoming very good at tricking others. Most of the time it was at the expense of his own well-being, which made it a problem she was surprised hadn't been addressed among their friend group.

"Well, he is thirty-two. The old man probably needed to sleep." Usually jokes at the expense of others were enough to lift Ed out of a heavy spirit, and she hoped that the smile he flashed her in response was genuine. But just as she feared, the moment faded and the smile fell. Ed continued sulking, tracing the many circles and patterns that adorned the table with his finger. "That's not what's bothering you."

"Cindy… do you know what I'm good at?" Oh, was that it? He was feeling insecure about his talents? Good, that was something easily remedied.

"Eddy, you're good at lots of things! You're good at video games, fighting, painting- especially fighting, though! You're amazing!"

"Okay, but what would I do as, like, a job?"

Ed stopped tracing the table to look out the backdoor window behind her, watching birds jump from branches and away from their nests. Some birds were new, smaller than the others and less adept to flying. The older birds seemed to help them along, though, flying off their perches and batting their wings in demonstration when the young ones were watching. "What do you mean? Aren't you going to join the consortium like us?" Cindy tried desperately to hide it, but her heart jumped against her ribcage, throwing her into a fit of worry. Of course she would miss going on missions with him, and the lack of his presence among the club would easily be a huge hit to morale, but she was more focused on the 'why' of the situation. He'd always wanted to join the consortium. What would have made him change his mind? Did something happen? Some form of panic must have slipped in her voice and clued him in, because he hurriedly reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, waving his other back and forth.

"Yeah, yeah! I am! I am! It's just…" She shouldn't have been, and she knew that, but she was disappointed when he pulled away. She loved the warmth that came when he touched her, was friendly with her. Cindy was always the one who broke the walls of personal space, though not as often as she would have liked. Ed never seemed to ignore her gestures, and would often hug her if she asked, but he never went out of his way to lay his hands on her. It confused her, because Ed was an otherwise affectionate man. She'd seen him squeeze Isaac to near-death when the medium came home from summer camp that one year and pretty much tackle Isabel from behind in efforts to start a tickle war. Max was the only other person Ed didn't get touchy-feely with, and that was because Max did not like being touched at random.

When Ed was settled back in his seat, he looked at her quizzically. "You do know we don't get paid for consortium work, right?"

"Of course."

"I'm talking about a real job. You know, for rent and stuff?"

"Well, there have to be plenty of jobs open to you, Eddy. I can't imagine there's a lot you can't do if you put your mind to it!"

Ed blinked and smiled at her with what was clearly sympathy, but it was gone as soon as she saw it. "Cindy, I'm trying to ask for advice. What do you think I should major in?"

"Oh, that's easy! You should-!" Cindy paused to think. Being a professional gamer sounded right up his ally, but Ed would have hated to compete for cash. He played video games because he liked getting high scores and venting on that boss that every player hated. Doing that as a job would get stressful for him fast. She could see him participating in martial arts tournaments for some side cash, but she didn't see him doing it for a living. He would get enough of that as a consortium agent. Being an artist was one thing- but he was looking for a job that could actually make him money. Once again, it was something he could do on the side, but nothing he'd quit a day job for. Eventually she came to the realization that she was coming up blank, so she bit her lips together, like that meant she wouldn't have to talk. "Mm…"

"Yeah, it's not really an easy question."

Ed dug his head into his hands, burying his fingers in his hair. She felt bad for him; She'd never had to go through the whole 'questioning where you want your life to go' deal. She knew what she wanted and had, if she failed, a very large green safety net to fall back on. While she didn't ignore school entirely, she was always more focused on making some memories. The concept of 'starving artist' was just that- a concept. She wasn't sure how to deal with Ed. What did one say to a loved one who feels like they're useless in the real world? Cindy coughed and folded her hands into her lap, eyes darting around the room looking for anything to give her a few ideas. There had to be something. She knew Ed, and he had a resolve thicker than stone. "You could study economics." That was her father's accounting book on the table.

Ed peeked out from behind his hands, the tip of his nose twitching below his narrowed eyes. "Wait, what?"

"Or you could study law!" Her eyes looked to the cat poster that hung like a sore thumb in the middle of their unsoiled black kitchen. In the picture there was a Persian cat, looking pouty and mad, in a judge's robe with a lightwood gavel in one paw. As much as she adored the idea of Ed in a fitted suit, she would have been lying if she'd said she could see him in court- and not on the witness stand.

"What? Cindy, law? I have no interest in-!"

"Or you could study culinary!" Knives, no big surprise. She felt her cellphone hum in agreement. If he became a chef, maybe they could work together; that way he wouldn't need to be scared about his future, either. Her safety net of moolah would be his safety net of moolah. Culinary wasn't exactly where she wanted to go, but she wasn't uninterested, especially if it would save Ed some grief.

Ed sat up and glanced around the room, eyes wide and bewildered. "What the-? Cindy are you just naming off-?"

"You could study physics!" That one was off the top of her head. She could see Ed as a physics teacher (or something of the sort), dressed for work with a tie around his neck and some helpful flashcards for the vocabulary test he'd be giving. He'd always had a way with kids since, you know, he still kind of acted like one. Being a professor was something even grander. He would make more money than he'd know what to do with! He wasn't really interested in science, but he was pretty good at math- better than she was, anyway.

"Cindy, stop! I- I couldn't do any of those!"

"Yes you could, Eddy! That's my entire point! You could do anything you wanted to if you put the time and effort into learning it!"

Ed sighed and shook his head, a clear sign of resignation on his part. Cindy grinned. It wasn't often somebody got to leave a person like Ed speechless. What an honor it was to be among the fantastic few who could. "Fine, fine. I see your point."

"I hope you do!" Cindy was silent for a few seconds, contemplating her next words very carefully. Ed wasn't easy to offend, but the subject at hand was a sensitive one. "I'd hate it if you thought you had to be stuck with other's expectations." The room went entirely quiet, Cindy realizing she'd probably hit some form of a nerve. She'd never really tried to talk to him about anything deep like that before. Perhaps there was a reason for that she'd forgotten in the last few minutes? Clearing her throat, she patted the table where he'd been leaning before. "Relax, Ed. Why don't you have a cookie?"

Much to her disappointment, Ed stood from his seat and beeline for the door with little words spoken. "Sorry, Cindy. I'm pretty full. I've got somewhere to be, but I'll talk to you later, okay?" He waved.

Cindy stood as well, but didn't go after him. She watched him walk out the front door, away from her and away from the conversation. As soon as she heard the click of the door, Cindy glanced back down at her plate full of cookies.

* * *

"I can't believe you're finally retiring. It seems like it took forever."

"Oh, are you so happy about me leaving my place in the dojo?"

Isabel leaned against the wall of the porch, arms crossed over her chest as she rubbed them for warmth. Winter was certainly approaching. If it was going to snow, she wanted it to just snow already.

Her grandfather sat in front of her right where he always was when he was shouting orders, calling out to some students who were slacking in their training with a solid voice loud enough to shake the earth. When she was just a little girl, she remembered training for the first time- having her grandfather yell at her like that for the first time. It certainly felt like the walls were falling then and it still felt like that as she stood a graduate student of the dojo. "Doesn't really matter to me, Grandpa. I'm not the one shaking like a leaf."

He chuckled. It wasn't so rare for him to laugh anymore, not in her presence. Once she'd become a trained spectral and didn't need his exercises, he'd become much friendlier. On one hand, it was really cool to see the grandfather she'd thought was gone, but on the other it unnerved her completely. Seeing him screaming and tantalizing made her realize who he really was. She wasn't sure if the wall between them had disappeared- in fact, she was beginning to worry the friendliness was his way of keeping up appearances. She was, after all, his only granddaughter. If he'd continued to treat her like he'd treat any of the other students- strong-arming and disciplining- even after she'd graduated, she might have considered leaving. She wouldn't have, but he didn't need to know that. "You were never one to shake, Isabel."

"I don't think you were paying close enough attention."

He hummed in response and stroked his beard. She had a feeling he didn't want to have that conversation, and she was fine with that. It was in the past. She was over it. As far as she was concerned, she was an adult and she only needed to respect him as an elder, not a master. He wasn't her teacher anymore and she wasn't going to quiver like he was. Nobody could break her. Nobody could scare her. Isabel was a Guerra woman and she could handle herself.

Well, if there wasn't going to be a conversation from then on, there was no reason for her to stay outside when it was starting to get freezing. The entire reason she'd come out in the first place was because she'd made some tuna and wanted to offer him some. He didn't want any, and she could have told you that, so whatever. She just wanted to be sure.

"My old pupil will be taking my place once I am gone."

She stopped mid-way to the door, turning her head over her shoulder. "Mister Spender?"

"You are his equal now. You are a woman. You should call him Richard."

She laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, no offense to him, but there's no way that's gonna happen. You know, unless he wants me to call him something like Richie or Ricardo." Grandpa Guerra laughed again, and it kind of sent shivers down her spine. Maybe she just wasn't used to hearing him laugh at her jokes? She'd hardly thought the man had a sense of humor at all before she'd graduated. "He's going to be taking over the dojo?"

Grandpa Guerra nodded.

Isabel turned back to face him. He wasn't looking at her, and she wasn't expecting him to. He was in the middle of overlooking a training session, after all. "Does he know?" That didn't mean he wasn't paying attention to every move she made. Sometimes she wondered if he scrutinized her; she wondered if he still criticized everything she did and if the only difference in their relationship was that he didn't open his big mouth to tell her. It felt like that sometimes.

"Of course."

"Does he want the job?"

Grandpa Guerra was silent, stroking his beard. Isabel knew what that meant- he hadn't even asked Spender yet. She bet he'd hardly mentioned it at all, and that was if Spender even knew he was retiring!

"Isn't there somebody else who could take the job? I mean, you've had more than one pupil graduate. There's gotta be somebody who could do it."

"There's nobody like him, Isabel." He sat in thought for a moment before continuing. "Nobody as qualified. Nobody as good a fit."

Isabel opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. That was not a fight she was going to win. She found it ironic how Spender was somehow the most qualified spectral in the entirety of all of Grandpa Guerra's graduates. The old man had spent years mocking her teacher, a man she looked up to as her older brother and cared about as though he were family. She'd sat there and listened to him demean and diminish Spender for years and years. While the teacher never blinked twice at it, probably because he knew he was a damn good spectral, Isabel still hated it. She hated it with every inch of love she had for her big brother- her mentor and her friend. Even so, it was Spender's battle and all she could do was quietly cheer him on from the sides. He wouldn't have wanted her to get involved. Isabel turned around to go back inside again, only to hear him sigh in the way she hated so freaking much. "Where's the freeloader?"

"Ed is over at a friend's house."

"And you didn't follow?"

Something in her chest clenched, but she swallowed it down. "No, he needed to go alone." Isabel just couldn't help him, couldn't give him the advice he needed. She'd known her entire life what she wanted to do, and he was left struggling to catch up. Ed always was struggling to catch up. She wanted to help him, but how? Isabel was trying to be empathetic, but it wasn't her strong suit. Cindy, as much as she hated to admit it, was much more adept to dealing with emotions and helping people- helping Ed. She was family, after all.

Grandpa Guerra laughed again, and Isabel felt about ready to choke him. She whipped around, glaring as murderously as she could at his back and hoping against hope he'd feel the resentment coming off her in waves. He didn't even acknowledge her growing aura, wasn't scared of her and that pissed her off.

"I see! He's finally found himself a woman, huh? Took him long enough."

"No, Grandpa" his name felt like poison on her lips sometimes "she's his ex and they're just friends now." Isabel couldn't help but see the hilarity of it. They hadn't told Grandpa Guerra about the Baltons, and certainly not about how they were Ed's own blood. They never felt like it was something he needed to know- that was why Ed never said anything about it, anyway. Isabel was always worried the old man would kick Ed to the curb if he'd heard he had functioning, capable family in town. She knew the Baltons would take him in no question, but it was an undeniable fact that Isabel didn't want to live without him. It was embarrassing, but she'd been with him her whole life. Suddenly not having him there every morning would have been both unsettling and frustrating. Things wouldn't have been the same for her or for him. She knew she'd have to live separately from Ed someday, but as far as she was concerned that day could wait.

Grandpa Guerra finally stood up, chuckling to himself. The suddenness startled Isabel, but she remained where she stood, hands running up and down her arms to create as much warmth as possible. She'd started to feel even colder. "I'm telling you this as a man, Isabel. If he is at her home alone, he is not hoping for a friend." He turned around and called to the students in the field who had continued their spectral shots even after their master had become quiet to their ears. She knew the reason well; it was suicide to stop before you heard him command it of you. You stopped when you heard him say 'stop'. Any sooner and you were disrespecting his orders and were in for a horrible punishment. "Enough! We will continue tomorrow." He pointed at a specific student, a young girl with pigtails in her hair. She was still painfully new. Isabel had just seen her roll into the city last week. The little girl gulped and fixed her posture, hands glued to her sides as she struggled to not lose her balance on the tips of her toes. "You need to work on your form! If you can't stand up straight, you have no business learning my techniques! Understood?"

"Yes sir!"

Isabel's mouth hung open before her mind caught up with her surroundings. Ed was not going to Cindy's house to hook up! That was gross. They weren't like that- he wasn't like that. Ed had never been desperate enough for something so disgusting. She couldn't even see him hooking up with anyone, let alone Cindy. Isabel almost pulled back when Grandpa Guerra set a surprisingly gentle hand on her head. "If there was love there once, it very well may bloom again."

With that he took his leave and parted from her, passing through the front door of the dojo.

No, he didn't understand. The reasoning behind their relationship falling through had still not changed, nor would it ever change. Cindy was his cousin, they were family. Cindy might not have had a problem with it, but Ed certainly had. People didn't just decide to date their ex again, especially when they were related by the blood actual literal blood in their veins. Unless Ed had decided he didn't care, either? The thing that bugged Isabel was that she cared so damn much. She told herself anybody would have been freaked out and appalled by the thought, but it wasn't just the cousin thing that was bugging her about the situation. Isabel told herself it would have been fine if it was another girl, because she and Ed had worked through those problems a long time ago, but that was the thing; she wasn't sure if she would have felt any differently if the girl was anyone else.

"Izzy?" Another hand fell on her shoulder, and she just about jumped at the warmth of the skin that squeezed her arm.

She calmed down once she recognized the voice, letting the air she'd been holding onto escape her lungs. Of course he was home. He always came home. She turned her head, looking up at him and grinning because she was just so relieved. "Ed, you're back already?" Everything felt okay again. He was there, now. What she'd been thinking about seconds before didn't matter. It was all in her head- the real thing was standing in front of her. Ed smiled and shrugged, and it all felt so very familiar.

"Yeah, Cindy just wanted to talk to me about a few things. Catch up since she's been touring Mayview University the last few days."

Just as she felt like she could breathe again, the air in her throat clogged up. "What are a few things?" The question came out as nonchalantly as she meant it to, but inside she was fighting off anxiety. When he threw on his coat earlier on his way out the door, he'd said he was going over there for some advice. If Ed tried to dance around the subject…

"Yeah, like how Spender's party went and everything. Her hair's gotten even longer, too. I told her she needs to just cut it all off and let it grow back to a normal maintainable height, but she just won't listen. I mean, it's not like she looks bad, I just know that can't be comfortable for her."

Isabel glanced at her own locks. Maybe her hair was getting kind of long, too…

"So she's really going to Mayview University? She can't settle for Community like the rest of us?" She twirled a strand in her finger.

"Isabel, her parents-!" He groaned "My aunt and uncle are loaded. There's no way she'd go to a regular community college."

"You don't sound like you're too bummed about that- ACHOO!" Isabel covered her nose in a hurry, beginning to degrade herself for deciding that day was a good tank top day. It'd been warmer earlier, she swore it! She frowned and rubbed her nose gently with one finger. She should have gone inside when she had the chance. In fact, she should have never gone outside in the first place with shorts on when she knew winter was fast approaching. If she was stuck with a cold she was going to scream. Being bedridden in a home like the dojo was one of the worst experiences ever. It meant being left out of all the action- no missions, no anything. When she was growing up, some of the students would visit her in her room just to tease her about being sick. Grandpa Guerra would find them and shoo them away after a few minutes, but it was still humiliating. Teasing somebody else who was sick, on the other hand, was loads of fun.

She felt something warm fall over her shoulders, soft and heavy and soothing. Looking up, she found Ed's faux fur coat draped over her, leaving him in a loose green t-shirt. "Ed-!" She looked up at him, ready to protest. He knew she hated chivalry, but he certainly didn't seem to care. His eyes were narrowed, as though he was analyzing her, and he stood with his hands at his hips. It almost felt like he'd grown an inch with the way he squared his shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat. Ed hardly ever looked like that- serious, gritty, and worried. She loved it when he was laughing all the time and teasing anything that moved- to think of him losing that was to think of losing him; it was just that there was something special about the times when he dropped the jokes and put on a staid face, the times she really felt that lump in her throat. Those were the times Ed took control of the situation, behind-the-scenes or otherwise, and really became a man of war. She very much enjoyed it when he did that.

"Well you sound like you're getting sick. How long have you been out here? Come on, Izzy, let's get inside."

She tried again to get a word in, but her attempts fell through when his arm snaked around her shoulders as he pulled her into him. He felt like a sauna compared to the sharpness of the near-winter, chest taut against her back. Every objection she had melted away as she leaned into him, a small smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mister Spender!" Isabel gasped at the dirt she'd accidentally kicked into the air, reaching her arm over her mouth to try and sway the odds of her lungs collapsing in her favor. The bridge of her nose stung like hell, reminding her that she was still not at full health.

 _That's the last thing I need to be focused on right now!_

"Mister Spender!" She called out to the empty forest, twisting in circles so that she didn't miss an inch- not one inch. If she saw movement she'd go for it. He had to be in the woods somewhere. Alive. He had to be. Someplace in the distance she heard Isaac sounding just as desperate, calling out to their teacher with little hope of a response. Even with all the foliage and space that divided the two of them, she could hear it clearly. His voice was so deep with apprehension and panic that she had to block it all out to keep herself sane, because it couldn't be true but she knew it was and reality was strangling her like a thick rope around her throat.

* * *

"ACHOO!"

Isabel ripped another tissue from the box, smashing it to her nose. Had the skin there not already been red from the almost nauseating cold she'd had thrust upon her by Mother Nature, it certainly would have been after she pulled the tissue away. Three days sick with the cold from hell and she already wanted to toss herself out the nearest window. "Ugghh…"

"You sound wonderful."

"Shud ub Maex." Isabel inhaled then sneezed again, coughing up what she was sure was phlegm and one shriveled up lung.

"I'm just shocked Ed got you to lay down this long." Isaac came to sit at the foot of her bed, patting her foot supportingly. Max took to leaning against the doorframe of her room, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face she would have punched clean off had she not been feeling like Death's wife. "How did he manage to do that?"

"Heh sat on meh until I laid still."

"And you didn't throw him off?"

"Maex, mah arhms arhe lahke overhcoohked noodhles right now. I cahn hardlhy use them t' sit up ahnd you think I'dh be ahble t' throw a hund'ed-fo'ty pound man offh me?"

In all truth, she hadn't wanted to shove him off. He'd been pinning her arms down and she'd been kicking and laughing and then he'd laid his torso across her stomach and at that point she'd given up because it wasn't worth the effort to fight anymore. It'd been awhile since they'd had a moment like that. If there was one good thing about coughing and wheezing and choking up phlegm, it was that Ed was there with her twenty-four-seven. The few moments he wasn't were spent making food for the two of them or using the restroom. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his pajamas in the last three days, not that she had either. A few times he actually fell asleep right there next to her in the bed. She'd 'tried to stop him' because he would catch her cold, but he refused to leave. Laying there with his arms around her waist- it was the best sleep she'd gotten in years. The entire atmosphere had felt so right, like they were kids again and it was a sleepover. It was like all the years before they could even start to train at the dojo, when they'd stay up talking about what spectrals in the dojo could totally beat what other spectrals, and they'd fall asleep in the same sleeping bag because they just didn't want to be apart.

"Well when you put it in unintelligible gibberish!"

Ed slid into the room with a bowl of soup in his hands, very narrowly missing the pillow that Isabel sent flying at Max's head. He twisted out of the way, somehow managing to keep the broth from spilling over the side of the bowl. Max chuckled and picked the pillow up from off the floor, approaching Isabel to place it back behind her head where it belonged. Ed glared Isabel's way, straightening up from where he'd been hunched over the bowl protectively. "How about we not?"

She gave him a wide, giddy smile back. "How 'bout weh doo?"

Ed rolled his eyes and set the bowl in Isabel's lap, making sure she had it steady before his hands parted. He was smiling behind his glasses and she knew it.

"You know" Isaac sounded smug "I thought the Great Powerful Isabel didn't get sick?" She should have assumed he'd make a comment about something she may or may not have said in passing back in middle school. It was just like him. His haughty face dropped when she raised her foot under the covers and kicked him. In all honesty, it was kind of nice to be teased again. She'd been expecting it to be like every other time she got sick, with tons of dojo students mocking her mercilessly, but none of the students now so much as dared to tease her about her cold- they all knew she could kick their asses. After all, she was a graduate, leagues above them in rank. Isaac was the first one to say a word edge-wise about her cold. In a way, it was a comforting taste of nostalgia.

"Hey, hey, hey! Be careful of the soup, Izzy! Geez!"

"So, Mister Spender's going to be taking over the dojo, huh?" Isaac rubbed his lower back where she'd kicked him, face contorting in pain. She guessed that even as weak as she was feeling, she was still stronger than the dorks she chose to surround herself with.

"Yeph." Isabel snorted. She was feeling a little too lazy to blow her nose at the moment, seeing as the option of food had presented itself in front of her. She raised the spoon to the broth and started shoveling noodles into her mouth as fast as she possibly could. She must have been hungrier than she thought. All day she'd felt like throwing up, but she'd assumed it'd been from the raging headache she'd woken up with, which in hindsight could have also been from hunger. The steam reached through the air, burning through her nose and turning what was once an impenetrable wall in her nostrils into a broken dam. She reached for a tissue and blew her nose clear before it started running.

Isaac snickered, leaning back against the bedframe. "That should be fun to watch."

"As talented as I've been hearing he is for six years, I can't help but think his teaching style is a little…" Max fell silent, clawing through his extensive vocabulary to find a word that would fit his old mentor's methods. It was odd, seeing Max struggle over his God-given gift. Actually, no, it was funny- hilarious, really. The guy never shut up. Max having a hard time finding the right words was as rare as a four-leaf clover covered in gold, laced to the saddle of a unicorn and/or Pegasus as the clouds in the distance parted to let a rainbow through.

"He's different from my grandfather, but if you ask me that's what the dojo needs." Isabel coughed on a spoonful of broth that went down the wrong hole, to which Ed jumped to remind her that she was 'fragile' right now and to 'take it easy'. She glared at him and he gave her a huge, toothy grin back, knowing damn well that he would have gotten himself smacked had she been operating at full capacity. "We don't need another person to just scream in faces. We need somebody more understanding. He can do it."

"As understanding as Spender is, Isabel" Isaac cut in, a small cautious smile on his easily-read face "keep in mind he's hardly ever upfront about anything. He's too passive to be the dojo's instructor. They'd all practically be learning on their own."

Isabel gaped at him, frowned, and said "You wouldn't know, Isaac. You're blacklisted, remember?"

"Whoa, hey!" Max put his hands up in mock defense, leaning over so that he was between Isabel's bloodshot eyes and Isaac's deathly narrowed ones. "Someone sounds a little cranky!" Isabel sighed and rolled her eyes. Cranky was certainly the best adjective she could think of, so it wasn't a surprise that Max called it. She was just so sick and tired of lying in bed all day for three days when she could have been doing something more useful- like beating some stupid friendly-spirit-eating spirit senseless. But no, she was stuck in bed with a bowl of hot soup and a never-ending headache.

"Yeah, sorry."

Isaac's defense fell, the scrunch of his nose turning into little more than a satisfied wiggle. "It's okay. I know you can't help it! Dumb people can't help but be rash." Isabel snorted and glowered at him, mirroring the smirk inching across Isaac's face.

Ed wiped his hands together like he was brushing something off, grin still as wide as his head. "Well then, how about them Yankees?"

* * *

"A breech?" That was the last thing Spender needed to hear. With all of the weight of his existential dread and literal weight of the stack of papers he needed to grade, he had no idea how he was going to handle much of anything. "What do you mean a breech?"

"An unidentified spirit and or spectral broke through the barrier on the east side of the city." He didn't recognize the voice on the other end, but it was certainly a young, probably inexperienced, spectral. Maybe they weren't quite as young as his kids, but they were new to the Consortium nevertheless. They were probably in training. If everybody else at the hub was busy, which wasn't entirely unlikely, then it made sense Boss Leader would have passed the reporting job down to someone still learning. "We don't know how, but you've gotta get in there and take care of it."

"Of course."

He hung up the phone and slipped it into his back pocket.

Not just any spirit could break through the barrier- it didn't work like that. Something was wrong. Whatever had the ability to break through an age-old barrier of masterful creation must have been powerful, powerful enough to be a threat to his town and everybody he cared about- maybe even their neighboring cities. Isabel was still bedridden with her cold, not surprising considering how rarely she got sick, Ed was taking care of her, Max was taking care of the store while his father was away on business, and Isaac's ignorance wasn't to be risked. Then they'd have two breeches and everything would become much, much worse.

He'd take care of it.

He grabbed his coat off the hanger and his keys off the bureau by the front door, taking one last look at his sleeping wife (her blonde hair loose against the pillows, the blankets falling from the curve of her hips, her brows and lips at rest because her sleeping form could still feel the heat from where he'd been laying) before taking off.

* * *

"You really inhaled that chicken soup, Izzy. Sure your cold's not turning you into a creepy flesh vacuum?"

"I will pay you to never say 'flesh vacuum' ever again."

"I thought it was funny?"

"It was oddly unsettling."

Ed laughed and set a bowl of water on her nightstand, water she could assume was not for drinking. He gestured for her to lay down and she did as told, slipping under the covers that had started to feel like a humid summer's day the longer she spent under them. She'd just have to ask Ed to turn on the fan. She would have done it herself, but every limb in her body felt limp and weak. Standing up would have just changed where she was laying down- on the bed or on the floor. Ed folded a cloth and dropped it into the water, pulling it up and turning it over and dipping it again as he felt necessary. "Do you think my fever's gone down at all?"

"Maybe! I'll check."

She was fully expecting him to reach into his back pocket and pull out a thermometer. He'd surprised her by being prepared with more in the past. He'd been coddling her the past few days and she kind of liked it, being taken care of. That was weird for her, enjoying being useless and helpless. She couldn't bring herself to hate the white noise of her fan above her whenever it was on, not when she spent her nights whispering in Ed's ears because they'd wake the students if they were too loud. Sometimes she wasn't so mad that she was cooped up with nowhere to go. Instead, a foreign emotion stirred her body from her chest, if only because they played "Never Have I Ever" to pass the time. She lost every time and he lost every time, just because they'd done everything together. When she woke to a coughing fit, she expected to hate it and hate herself and hate everything around her, but Ed was always there with a glass of water and some medicine.

Ed was full of surprises; lately that'd seemed like all he'd been doing- surprising her. He leaned over Isabel, resting one hand on her pillow. She watched his other hand with a perked curiosity, his fingers brushing against her shoulder before he cupped her cheek. Her congestion didn't help, but it was because of his touch that she found it incredibly hard to breath. Isabel's eyes were bloodshot, she was sure, but they worked well enough to trace the curve of his nose and the crease of his brows. All the while she felt as though she'd been dealt a wild card, not knowing if her cheeks were red hot because of her fever or because of her best friend towering over her like they'd have one less chance to say "Never Have I Ever". He didn't seem fazed, not when his palm brushed her lips and not when she leaned into his touch. "Ed?" She hated the sound of her own voice. It was thick and pathetic, like she wasn't buoyant enough to speak. Was it him or her cold leaving her feeling so feeble? He leaned closer.

"Yeah, Izzy?"

"You're going to get sick."

"Probably, yeah."

That was all she could possibly think of to complain about, all she could think of to stop him. Did she really want that- to stop him? He leaned down close enough that their noses were touching, close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips and close enough that staring up at him was becoming exceedingly difficult. He didn't stop smiling, though, and she hadn't expected him to. It was just in his nature, and most of the time she hoped he was smiling for her. She watched him with parted lips, somewhat because she couldn't breathe through her nose and relatively because she knew what was coming.

Then he surprised her for the second time that night. Ed pulled away and pressed a kiss to her forehead, humming in concentration- not quite what she'd been expecting. Isabel was too busy (mentally beating herself to death with Max's bat in compensation for the embarrassment she was feeling) to pay attention to a word he said. "Your fever has gone down a little, but you do still have one."

"Great…" She mumbled and glanced to her wall full of posters, trying to avoid eye-contact as much as humanly possible.

Ed laughed and sat up, reaching into the bowl of water. He twisted the cloth and sighed when all of the water came falling from the fabric. He folded it again, squeezing the excess water out of it before laying it flat over her head. "Hey, you're almost out of the woods!"

"That's still not actually out of the woods, though…"

There was a vibration from the nightstand, a bright light flashing with every annoying buzz. Isabel and Ed glanced at it.

* * *

"Have you heard anything from her since, by the way?"

"Nope." Max shook his head and stuck his phone back in his pocket. "But I mean, she was only three years older than us. I'm still worried about running into her on college campus. God, that'd be awful."

Isaac laughed and glanced at the ground and, Max hated himself for it but, he took the opportunity to trace the lines of Isaac's face with his eyes. It'd been- what- four or five years since everything happened with Velda? He didn't know why he was still holding on. He guessed it was because of the glimpses of emotion he'd see behind Isaac's eyes when they caught each-other's glances; it was imaginary, it always was, because Isaac would blink it away and just like that the feeling was gone, but he liked to pretend on occasion. He'd known it from the first night home, lying awake at one in the morning for no reason, that he wouldn't be able to stand it. Being in the friendzone, just waiting for years and years, was a special brand of hell he wanted no part of but he'd still done it. He'd told himself that Isaac was right, that they'd just been caught up in the heat of the moment and it hadn't been a real kiss and there wasn't anything there for them. The problem was that, while Isaac might not have been, Max definitely was lying. He'd lied to himself that entire week. He couldn't go back when he'd hit the realization that Isaac was way more to him- that Isaac was quite possibly the love of his life.

But he had to acknowledge that he simply wasn't Isaac's.

That's why he'd learned over the years to keep it simple. If he thought for one second Isaac was interested, he'd ignore it. He wouldn't make a fool of himself just to end up losing his best friend. He learned to touch him less, look away, joke around if things got too serious. It never got easier, but the pay-off was more than enough.

"What you should do is find a girlfriend or something- date Suzy. Suzy would knock Caron on her butt if she tried anything."

"How much do you think Suzy would want for that?"

"Eh, probably like a buck an hour or something."

Max snorted and turned to look at the road ahead of them. It was a little foggy, not much to his surprise, but it wasn't like they couldn't see where they were going. He sighed and breathed in the fresh air around him. It was late enough at night that the crickets were 'singing' or whatever you wanted to call it. He could hear the thin rivers that ran along Mayview's hills and feel the humidity on his skin. Moments where he actually felt calm were rare since he'd moved to Mayview, what with the constant hustle and bustle of the spirits they saw and the enemies that popped up at random. Most of the time he was in a state between panicked and irritated and tickled. While peaceful moments were appreciated every now and then, Max found himself missing them less and less as time went on.

"Gotta work for that journalism fund, ya know?"

"She is going to take control of Mayview Community and we're all going to be enslaved for eternity. We'll spend our lunches taking mediocre pictures of each-other and writing horrible articles that are pretty much just a series of gifs we thought were funny."

"Gifs won't move when they're printed, though?"

"That's what's so bad about it."

He heard the beginnings of Isaac's laugh, but it was cut abruptly. Isaac tumbled over a block of sidewalk that'd been just a tad higher than the rest, falling forward with all the grace of a drunken orchestra conductor. Max lurched forward and caught Isaac in his torso, arms wrapped under Isaac's, effectively trapping his shoulders in his hands. If it didn't look awkward, it certainly felt it. Isaac's face was buried in Max's chest, and the way Max held him left very little room to move. When Isaac tried to pull his head up, he not only head-butted Max in the jaw, he managed to chew on his shirt. "Can you be any less smooth?"

"Can you be any jerkier of a savior?"

"I could, actually. I could make you repay me." When Isaac stood up straight, arms still locked in Max's grip, they came nose-to-nose. Max disregarded that.

Isaac mockingly rolled his eyes with a sardonic smile Max rarely saw on him. "Repay you how, my dashing hero?"

"I don't know! How are heroes usually repaid?"

"Traditionally?" Isaac laughed. "A kiss."

Max was about to retort, but he froze when the unspoken implications befell upon him. Isaac must have come to a very similar realization, because his eyes were wider than Max thought his own were. He started radiating heat like some kind of air conditioner, and Isaac wasn't much cooler to the touch. Max's hands fell from Isaac's shoulders to his waist, but Isaac didn't move save for letting his elbows fall.

It was nothing, same as every other situation they'd been in over the six years they'd known each-other. He would pull away, Isaac would shake whatever 'this' was off, and they'd be back to normal. No matter how many times they touched, found the other's gaze, or had a moment of blissful tension, nothing would ever come of it. He could pretend to see a spark in Isaac's eyes. He could pretend the hands that found his arms so often were there to quell something more, but it wasn't in the stars. The problem, without doubt, was that he really didn't want to let go. He had Isaac right there- right there literally in the palms of his hands, and there was no guarantee it would ever happen again. He heard Isaac swallow hard. "Max…"

He blinked and forced his hands from Isaac's waist, already missing the electricity he'd felt between his fingers. "Sorry."

"No!" Isaac gripped Max by the arms and put his hands right back where they'd been, sending perplexing signals through the entirety of Max's body. He blinked and tensed up, feeling Isaac's hold tighten when he did. Was he supposed to be happy, excited, worried? He didn't know. Isaac's face wasn't giving him any answers. He just looked livid and mortified. "Max, we…" He watched with great interest as Isaac bit down on his lip, wondering what it would have felt like to be the one nibbling that skin. It was a thought that often crossed his mind, but he rarely indulged in the idea. "We... I think…" Isaac's eyes drifted to their shoes, any trace of determination Max might have seen dissolving away and dying, pools of blue darkening in the worst way possible. Before Max knew it, whatever hope he'd been feeling fell through. "I think we should get home."

The hands that'd been so firm before fell away, leaving Max only with a feeling of loss.

He jumped as his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, both a surprise and a welcome distraction from what'd possibly nearly happened (probably not, though). Isaac turned his attention to the ringing and raised an eyebrow. "It's nearly nine at night. Who's calling you?"

Max took the phone back out and looked over the screen. "Isabel."

"What? Did we leave something there?"

"Maybe…" He pressed the green button and brought the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

She sounded panicked, more panicked than he'd ever in the history of knowing Isabel had heard her sound. She spoke fast and in shallow breaths, leaving more than a little room for miscommunication. "What?" Isaac's already-raised eyebrow roamed further. Max shrugged at him, still just as clueless as he'd been a few seconds ago. "What do you mean?" Isabel rattled off some earlier happenings in words he could hardly understand. "Okay, so where'd he go?" He heard shuffling on the other end, the sound of Ed's distant voice, the revving of a car, and then Isabel's anxious mumbles and some numbers. "Got it. See you in a little while." Max hung up the phone and stuffed it anxiously into his pocket.

"What happened?" Isaac watched him struggle to put his phone back, tension visibly rising in his shoulders again. Max shrugged, but that was only because he couldn't think of a better response.

"Spender's gone missing. We're meeting at the dojo. Come on."

* * *

They'd tried. They really did. They'd gotten to the marked spot in less than twenty minutes after getting the call. They'd split up, Isaac with her and Ed with Max, and even then they'd gotten separated from each-other. She knew exactly how long they'd been searching, she just truly didn't want to believe it. Three hours- they'd been searching for three hours. Up and down every inch of the Mayview woods had to offer, five times, and there wasn't even a sign Spender had ever been there. She'd dialed his number over and over and over again but every single time his voice mail answered. "Mister Spender!" Isabel gasped at the dirt she'd accidentally kicked into the air, reaching her arm over her mouth to try and sway the odds of her lungs collapsing in her favor. The bridge of her nose stung like hell, reminding her that she was still not at full health.

 _That's the last thing I need to be focused on right now!_

"Mister Spender!" She called out to the empty forest, twisting in circles so that she didn't miss an inch- not one inch. If she saw movement she'd go for it. He had to be in the woods somewhere. Alive. He had to be. Someplace in the distance she heard Isaac sounding just as desperate, calling out to their teacher with little hope of a response, his voice cracking and croaking because he was just so riddled with the fear she also felt. Even with all the foliage and space that divided the two of them, she could hear it clearly. His voice was so deep with dread and panic that she had to block it all out to keep herself sane, because it couldn't be true but she knew it was and reality was strangling her like a thick rope around her throat.

He was dead. Richard Spender was thirty-two years old and dead.


	4. Chapter 4

The songs that played on the radio were all older songs, songs they'd grown up with as kids in the early 2000's. It wasn't like they could change the station; everyone in the car was too busy wallowing in their own burdened minds. The fog in the air was heavy, but it was nothing compared to the weight that drifted from person-to-person, sucking any traces of joy like a leech. Happy memories appeared in spurts, each one colored with one Richard Spender's aura- his face, his voice, his life, but whatever joy the memories once brought seeped out of their skin and evaporated in the warm circulated air of the car. They all wanted to say something- anything- but there really wasn't anything to be said, not yet. It was too early to come up with clever words of wisdom and too late to talk about feelings. The time would come around soon, but for the moment it was best to stagger in the stillness.

Life, it occurred to them, did not come and go differently for each of them than it would other people. While they knew the world of spirits lied beyond their physical realm, there was little they could say about the place they'd go when their ghosts faded from the place they'd known their entire lives. They'd know the same fate as every other man and woman. There might be flames and red hot dirt and pitch forks, or golden gates where everyone they'd ever missed stood waiting as angels strung harps, or there might have been nothing. The uncertainty of it all was baffling.

Ed pulled up in front of the convenience store, making some comments about Max getting sleep that neither of them would remember by the morning. Max mumbled some half-hearted response and climbed out the door closest to him.

"Aren't you alone right now?" Isaac sounded uncharacteristically calm. Max shrugged and leaned over the open door so that his face was visible. He was sure he looked like hell. Everyone else did.

"Yeah. Dad's outta' town and Zoey's at a friend's place." It was a Saturday, after all.

Isaac nodded and started climbing out, too. Albeit confused, Max backed up and gave him space. "What are you doing?"

"You shouldn't be alone right now. None of us should." He tried to read Isaac like the book he usually was, but his expression was unreadable. All he could see was his own guilt and pain reflected back at him. It felt like it should have blinded him. It would have been better if he was the only one feeling it. Seeing it in the paleness of Isabel's skin and the grimace on Ed's face and the dull grey in Isaac's electric blue pools- it just reminded him he had something to be a little more than distraught about. Ed looked over the shoulder of his seat.

"Isaac's right. Isabel and I have got each-other. You two should stick together for the night."

Max slipped the keys he kept in his back pocket into the sliding door, somehow getting even less joy out of the soft sliding sound than usual. They were greeted by a pitch black store, shelves and shelves of the same snacks and candy bars and canned soups they'd had for years shrouded in shadows. That was where Max found some comfort. It was something normal, something to hold onto even though he felt like his world was kind of narrowing in on him.

He and Isaac began the trek upstairs.

"It really makes you think…" Isaac didn't respond, but Max knew he'd heard him. "Just the other day we were calling him an old man and throwing 'mid-life crisis' around." Max paused and clenched the railing in his hand tighter. "Had I known, I would've called it end-life crisis." It certainly wasn't his best pun in the world, but it got a snort out of Isaac.

They continued in silence until they reached the end of the hallway, prompting Max to take a deep breath before he rattled off the basics about the blow-up mattress and the spare comforters and where they were in relation to his room. It all felt so stupidly mundane for the night of someone's death, like they should have been doing something else- something to honor Spender. Then again, it wasn't like they had anything to honor. They didn't find clothing or limbs or his tool, let alone a body. Max shook the thought off. "It's just, ya know. We deal with all of these spirits and ghosts all the time. All of the tools and auras and rules- it makes you forget we only live once, too." Isaac didn't have a response to that, either, only walking past Max as he opened the door to his bedroom.

Max watched him as he came to a stop in the middle of the room, standing at the side of his bed. Isaac didn't seem like he was paying much attention to anything, no matter where his eyes fell. With a sigh, Max closed the door behind him. Wasn't the entire point of sticking together supposed to be for comfort? Isaac was almost making him feel worse than he had on the car ride home. He cleared his throat, waiting for a response from Isaac. When he received none, he figured he'd start talking anyway.

"Okay, so the door on your left when you're leaving my room is a bathroom. Inside you can find some emergency toiletries and stuff. The door at the end of my bed is the closet. That's where you'll find the blow-up mattress and the-" Isaac twisted around, grabbed Max by his arms and pinned him to his bedroom door, locking him in a hard, frantic kiss. It wasn't even a thought; Max closed his eyes and melted into Isaac and into the door and into his hands. Their lips fell apart, lidded stares communicating the very same need and want Max hadn't even known they'd been tugging the leash on for so long. They kissed again, harder than the last time. Max licked Isaac's lower lip, only to find Isaac biting his in response. He moaned and reached up to grab Isaac's arms, finding exactly what he wanted- not sure what- in the way Isaac dragged his short nails along his arms. They parted again to breathe only a second before they attacked each-other's lips ferociously once more. Isaac moaned that time, the hands at Max's arms fading in strength.

Max wrapped a desperate arm around Isaac's waist, pulling their bodies flush together. His other hand reached up and ran through Isaac's hair, fingers weaving through each small strand like the softest quilt. Isaac's hands gripped Max's collar, tugging as he somehow got even closer. It was getting harder to breath, but Max had a feeling Isaac cared even less than he did. He used the hand at Isaac's waist to turn the tables, throwing Isaac against the door and pinning him by the hips. Isaac gasped and wrapped his arms around Max's neck, pulling away to brush their noses together. He was taking long heavy breathes, face as hot as Max felt. Max was, too. Their eyes found each-others and Max saw it again- the same spark he'd seen time after time, only for Isaac to blink it away or laugh it off on a moment's notice. It was right there and it was the only thing, big blue eyes lidded and soft and just so filled with the adoration Max felt. The electricity that'd shocked him when they touched and when they'd kissed on the beach, it was racing through his body with every pulse in his veins.

Max dug his head into Isaac's neck, pressing warm kisses to whatever skin he could find. Isaac sighed and wrapped an arm around Max, leaving the other one to sit at Max's neck. It'd been six long years, six long years that he'd wanted Isaac. He'd had dream after dream about nothing but the touch of Isaac's palms against his, the brush of his lips on Max's cheek, and sometimes the heat of Isaac's breath on his ear. Some nights he woke up with a longing he couldn't quite explain, a feeling in the pit of his stomach that just yearned and begged for Isaac, just to talk to him until he fell asleep to the sound of his voice. Some nights he couldn't go back to sleep. Max opened his mouth, sucking at the nape of Isaac's neck. Isaac inhaled sharply, pressing light kisses to Max's ear because it was the only part of his face he could reach. When Max was sure he had left a mark, he pulled away to start on placing others, biting the skin along the way. He felt Isaac lean his full weight into him, pulling him closer with every breathy sound he made. Max had left three bruises when he pulled away, pressing his lips to Isaac's cheek. "Max…" It was a whisper in his ear, desire ringing in each trembling word. "I don't want to wait anymore."

* * *

It was 3 o'clock by the time the movie they'd put on had finished. It was about as helpful as Ed had been expecting it to be- which equated to zero helpfulness at all. When they'd finally gotten back to the dojo, it'd seemed the news had already reached. The only straggling students left did little else but stare sympathetically as he and Isabel trudged over to the living room to wait the worst of it out. Of course he'd known, and Isabel probably had too, that putting on a funny movie wasn't going to whisk away the ever-looming awareness that Spender was gone. Every joke they laughed at came with a little guilt. Everything that reminded them of him left a little pang in the center of their chests. The problem was that there was little they could do to avoid it. Until they slept and took the next few days by the horns, everything was going to remind them of Spender.

He glanced at Isabel, smiling to see her nodding off on his shoulder. He reached down and wrapped one arm under her legs and the other around her waist, hoisting her up and carrying her to the closest bed. She seemed a little more awake when she felt the ground moving beneath her, but not awake enough to stop him. "Hey Ed?" God, she looked horrible. The bags under her eyes had never been so dark, even on the nights she'd stayed up reading until dawn. Her tan skin that felt like silk under his fingers was so pale it made him worry. It was something he'd been expecting, after all she was the closest to Spender, but he hadn't been prepared for it.

"Yeah?"

Her head fell like a heavy box against his chest, the top of her head burrowing under his jaw as she struggled to piece her words together. "I really don't want to sleep alone tonight."

He smiled, nodded, and started on his way up the stairs. "Okay."

* * *

The sun was way too bright for it to be an early Sunday morning. Max guessed he usually had his curtains closed for that very reason, but he couldn't be mad at himself because he'd been much more preoccupied with other activities last night. Max ran his thumb along the bridge of Isaac's face, watching in amusement when Isaac scrunched his nose. He looked much more peaceful in his sleep, not throwing temper tantrums and hissing at any jokes made at his expense ever- though, Max thought, those were things he loved about him.

Their legs were tangled beneath the sheets, one of his hands around Isaac's waist. They'd slept like that last night, Isaac's head nestled in the nape of his equally-bruised neck. It still felt so surreal; that'd really happened. Even with the events that'd led up to that point, he could hardly feel anything but the overwhelming urge to replay it all again in his mind, from the first kiss to the last sweet word spoken before they let sleep take them. Max pressed a light kiss to Isaac's forehead. Damn, I think I'm in love. It wasn't like he hadn't known. After the six years of nothing but unfulfilled yearning, it was pretty clear he'd harbored a little more than a crush. He hadn't even had time to really start detesting the idea that he was feeling something mushy and gushy for someone, let alone Isaac. He'd been too busy trying to deny the truth to hate it.

Everything he was doing was so out of character for the guy he tried to present himself as- cynical, cool, sarcastic, distant. Laying there with his arms around Isaac, kissing his face, nestling into him and wondering how he got so lucky; none of those were anything like the man he tried to be. Isaac took all of his anime sparkles and his dramatic affinities and he poisoned Max with it every time they kissed. Was that what it was going to be like from now on, Isaac tearing through his pessimism to bring out whatever the hell this was? He wanted to be irritated with that idea but he couldn't. They'd both known all along his humor was some bizarre defense mechanism, so that probably meant he didn't feel the need for one when they were alone together.

Max sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted to kiss Isaac awake but he also wanted him to sleep because it was probably going to be a rollercoaster kind of day.

Spender was gone- no body, no glasses, no footprints, and no phone. They would've assumed he'd been kidnapped, but the spectral that'd called Isabel had been in such a panic, that would have been a miracle. There was no way to track him, no way to find out what happened to him, and no way of finding whatever spirit killed him. He and Isaac might have gotten it off their minds last night, but he doubted anyone at the dojo had. Ed probably hadn't gotten any sleep and Isabel was probably a mess. She hadn't cried, but he knew that look in her eyes. She'd wanted to. Remembering trudging through the woods for hours, screaming so hard it made his voice hoarse, it clawed away at whatever happiness he'd been feeling earlier. It reminded him why he and Isaac had finally come together, which sucked because that would always be why. It'd been grief- grief for a man who'd been a mentor to both of them.

Max, begrudgingly, slipped his arms away from Isaac and stepped out of bed. His room felt colder to him than it usually did in the morning. I guess being in my birthday suite doesn't help. That wasn't why, and he knew it, but every joke helped. He glanced to his desk at the end of his bed and the mess that surrounded it, stacks of papers on the ground, the chair toppled over, his pants halfway in an open drawer next to Isaac's… He took his pants in one hand and fixed the fallen chair with his other. After the seat was on its legs and not contributing to the mess he'd have to clean up later, he crossed the room to grab new underwear from the drawer on Isaac's side of the bed. On his way over, he noticed the pair he'd worn yesterday hanging indiscreetly from the lampshade on his bureau. With a deep blush creeping upon his cheeks, he took it down and set it in his laundry basket.

Once he'd shrugged a pair on and struggled with his pants and tugged a shirt on he'd cleaned the day before, he glanced around the room. The shirt Isaac had been wearing was in a messy pile with the shirt he'd been wearing at the bottom of the bedroom door. Isaac's undergarments were on the floor somewhere between the bedroom door and the desk. Memories of the night before came flooding back in more ways than one, and he decided his energy would be much better spent on making breakfast.

"Max?"

He glanced over his shoulder to see Isaac at the doorway to the kitchen, sliding the shirt he'd been wearing yesterday over his (bruised) shoulders. Max cocked an eyebrow. "Morning, sleeping beauty." Isaac seemed surprised, but the circle of his lips twisted to become a smirk the same as his.

"You say that like you woke me with a kiss."

Oh believe me, I wanted to, but you're really gonna need the energy today. Max snorted and flipped the omelet he was making in the air, catching it expertly on the frying pan. Well, a true expert might have called it rookie work, but Max was proud of himself for it. "We should head up to the dojo and see how Isabel and Ed are doing." Isaac nodded as the smile fell from his face. Any trace of playfulness that'd been there before seeped away in heed of the oncoming day. The medium padded over to lean against the counter next to the stove, fingers looking to numbly button up his shirt. Max watched from the corner of his eyes, feeling his own mood drifting out of his chest. He was starting to get some unseemly flashbacks and he didn't like it, to his mother's funeral and the furrow of his father's brows and the long nights he and Zoey couldn't stop crying…

He was about to go through all of it again, and Isaac might have been by his side but that didn't make it much better. Death was death, and it would always leave a healing hole in a person.

"How the hell are we gonna make it through this?" Isaac's voice came softly as he buttoned up the last few by his collar. It was starting to hit Max again, too, the realization that Spender was really gone. No more awkward teacher-to-student talks, no more dad jokes, no more "kids" this and "kids" that like they weren't adults…

"We just will." Max flipped the omelet onto a plate, sprinkling pepper and salt over the top before handing it off to Isaac. The bright blue eyes that looked up at him seemed duller, nervous, maybe a little scared again. All Max could do was smile and shrug.

* * *

Isabel felt empty, something strangely familiar. It was the same feeling she got when she read a really good story. She'd read the last word and her love for the cover and all the pages in between would come to an apex of emotion. That, of course, meant stewing in it obsessively for thirty or so minutes, but then the feeling would be gone. She'd feel all of the happiness and adoration she'd felt die in her chest, like a flame being snuffed out. Her legs and arms would become weights, and she'd be left yearning to feel that passion again. It'd churn in her stomach and squeeze her heart, leaving any and all attempts to feel just a semblance of what she'd felt before unrewarding. The feeling usually wore off in an hour, but this feeling loomed over her much longer.

There were no breaths of air where she felt normal again, no moments where she could see a crack in the metaphorical wall or the turn of a knob on a door. Even sleep brought little release. She dreamed about all of the times she'd grown to love Spender as her older brother, all of the times he defended her and cared about her and scolded her and told her stories and picked her up off her knees when she was so tired of trying to be a prodigy. They were all blowing up in her face every time she came to remember them. Things from years previous she'd never think of on a good day were tugging on every string knotted in her chest. Every nice thought she had was ruined by the reminder that he was dead.

She cracked open her eyes to find Ed staring back at her, his head resting above hers on the pillows they shared. He was smiling, but she saw the apprehension in him. She knew him too well. "Sorry to wake you. Isaac and Max texted me a while ago and said they were on their way. We might wanna get up."

Isabel grunted, closed her eyes, and dug her head further into the pillow. "I don't want to."

"Izzy…" He'd had his hands at her hips, but they slowly traveled up to her waist. The feel of his fingers brushing against the little skin her t-shirt left open sent shivers up her back. "Are you sure?"

She hummed and nodded, partly hoping he'd stay there with her. It hadn't been a really long time since they'd slept in the same bed together, yesterday cited, but it still didn't happen often. Sleeping in the same bed brought a sort of comfort little else did. Not only was she much calmer when they slept together, but she fell asleep faster and woke up feeling better, too. She wasn't going to ask him to stay because he was very clearly awake and probably bored out of his mind, but that didn't keep her from hoping. Ed leaned over and breathed into her ear, sending even more shivers down her spine.

"Maybe you just need something to wake you up a little…"

Isabel inched her eyes open when she felt the heat rising in her cheeks, welling in her chest, and coloring her entire body. Ed's fingers tipped and tapped her waist all the way down to her bare skin.

She never really had dirty thoughts. It just wasn't a thing that occurred to her on the daily. Hot men walked by, but she didn't necessarily want them tossing her anything, anywhere. That said, she had no idea what Ed was thinking and what his intentions were. She'd been so caught up in her mind, in herself and in the thoughts of loss that chased her in circles, so caught up that she wasn't thinking straight. It didn't help that she was stuck between reality and dreamland, because the hot breath in her ear influenced a swarm of new equally-irritating thoughts to cloud her head.

Unlike her, Ed's inner theater was playing a very PG-rated movie, because he started tickling her.

Immediately her eyes were wide open and her heart was racing and she was laughing so much harder than she thought she could for a long time. "Ed!"

"Say you'll get up, then, Izzy!"

"St-stop! Oh my god, stop!"

She reached up and started beating against his chest with her fists, earning nothing but laughter. She squirmed and cried and begged for him to just stop tickling her so she could get back to sleep, but he increased the tickles every time she did. "Ed!"

"Say you'll get up!"

"No!"

"Say it!"

Isabel snorted and thrashed about, but no matter where she moved, his hands followed. "Fine, okay! I'm awake!" He wasn't going to stop anytime soon and she pretty much felt wide awake, so the only sensible thing to do at that point was to give in. Ed chuckled and rolled onto his back, bringing her to lie on top of him. Her knees fell to either side of his legs, her forehead laid precariously on his chin. Isabel brought her fists down upon his chest, playfully light taps everywhere she could manage. "You ass!"

"What else was I supposed to do? Let you sleep like a good friend would?"

She turned her gaze on him, the tips of their noses just barley touching. She tried to catch her breath again, and she felt Ed doing the same. She supposed she'd wildly misjudged the persistence of the gloom she'd been feeling. Usually it would've taken her days, weeks conceivably, to start laughing again, but she'd completely forgotten to figure Ed into the equation. Yes, Spender had always been there to comfort her and make her feel better with dad jokes and jokes somehow even worse than dad jokes, but Ed was too. Even when Spender wasn't, Ed was there to put a smile on her face and cheer her up when she felt like curling up and crying. It made her heart ache. He was suffering too, he had to be. Spender was his friend and teacher and brother, just as he'd been hers. Even with the weight that was on his shoulders and the guilt, he must have felt same as she did. But he was still trying to make her laugh. Her gaze found his as they took their last deep breathes, his eyes as wide and giddy as the smile on his face. It was her favorite look on him.

They came to sit up at the same time, eyes on each-other with the rest of the sheets they hadn't knocked off already falling to the floor. Isabel's arms slid over Ed's shoulders, locking behind his neck. Her heart was still racing, but it had nothing to do with her shallow breaths.

Everything made sense with Ed, always had. Sitting there in his arms, feeling the heat of his breath on her lips and the twitch of his fingers at her waist, sitting in his lap as though it wasn't the first time- her pain was dwindling, if just for the moment. She didn't have to think about it, didn't have to try; she just felt the world fall into line with him. Nobody else had ever made her feel like that- safe. She'd always been a capable woman, somebody who could handle her own weight and protect herself, but with Ed she just didn't need to. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to let the world around her go just to see what it felt like. She loved that goofy smile and his obnoxious laugh and the tender touch of his hands on her back when he held her. She loved it when he got jealous and clingy and nervous, when he held her hand a little tighter and pulled her a little closer to him and a little farther away from the 'competition'. She loved when he got protective and fought for her and fought beside her with balled fists and a bloody battle grin, because those moments made it just so clear that he adored her. When he got dangerous and he scowled and sneered at his enemies, it made something stir within her, made her feel like she was capable of anything because she had him by her side. It was simply because they were together and everything was okay.

She loved him. The realization came slowly, but she hardly felt surprised, because of course it was Ed. Of course she loved him. Who else? No other man made her smile like he did, or made her knees quiver and her stomach flip and her laugh an octave higher. Even then, with a weight she'd never bared before laying upon her shoulders, he had her lips twitching and tugging into a smile. Ed tried to say something, but she saw him bite whatever lay at the tip of his tongue. He stared up at her with a face torn between giving her that small kind smile and falling into a frown that clued her in to just how serious he was feeling. His gaze begged a silent question and, while she wasn't sure what it was, Isabel nodded and pressed her forehead to his.

She'd follow him anywhere, do anything anytime.

The fingers stopped twitching at her waist, instead tightening and pulling her closer. Ed sighed and parted his lips again, inching closer tentatively. Their noses brushed together again. Isabel closed her eyes and matched him, because they were one in the same.

"Yo, Isabel? Your nerdy teammates are here." There was a loud knock at her bedroom door, probably more like rough pounding. Ed was so startled that he threw her off of him, sending her twisting onto the carpeted floor of her room. Isabel yelped and he squeaked, either way it left them feeling undignified and mortified. "I let 'em in already. Your bestie's not answering his door, so it'd be awesome if you didn't kill me for this."

"Thanks," Isabel mumbled and grunted as she came to sit on her knees, rubbing her nose which she hoped wasn't bruised from the face-to-floor impact "I'll be right down."


	5. Chapter 5

"Shit guys, he's really gone." Max took a huge swig of his coke, downing half of it in one go. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stared down at the floor with a blackness veiled behind his coffee eyes.

Ed could relate to the sentiment. It still didn't feel real to him, like it was only temporary and they'd all eventually wake up to walk into class and find Spender sitting at his desk with the lights off, some night lamps scattered around the ceiling of the room. He still half-expected to see Spender walk through the front door of the dojo like he owned the place, same as he'd done since he and Isabel were in toddler shoes. Every part of him just felt so numb to it, like he should have been sad but he just wasn't and it bugged him. On one hand, that was awesome because he did not handle loss well. On the other, that meant he was going to get hit by all of his repressed emotions at some point and, when he did, he would get hit hard. "Yeah, it's kind of weird, isn't it?"

"Try scary and unusual." Isaac had poured his soda into a glass and was messing with the ice he'd filled it with. The ratio was a little off, more frozen water than carbonated beverage. He moved his finger in circles around and around in the bubbles like a child with nothing else better to do. It was his way of keeping his mind off of things, and Ed got that.

Isabel glanced up from her lap, leaning back against the kitchen table where she'd chosen to sit. Master Guerra never really liked her doing that, but he wasn't around to care. Hell, they hadn't seen the man since late into the night when they'd returned home from their search. Upon hearing of Mister Spender's untimely fate, the elder had locked himself in his room with the excuse of 'extended meditation'. He hadn't been out since. Ed remembered the look in his eyes, the furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw. He remembered seeing Master Guerra wince for the first time, as though it was the first attack to land a hit on him in decades. It might have been. Watching the old man walk away with such a weight over him, looking five feet smaller because he was slouching under his heavy shoulders, it left a sour taste in Ed's mouth. Isabel sighed. "Do you guys remember that one time-?"

"Spender got himself arrested because he started arguing with a spirit in the middle of that old burger joint that closed down a year ago?" Max snorted. "Yeah."

"But, but officer- I wasn't telling the children to go back to where they came from!" Isaac did an impression of the incident, waving his arms around wildly in a way that was too incredibly similar to Spender's own fretful motions. Max coughed up some of his drink.

"Oh my god, that's right! The kids were visiting from Japan, weren't they? Oh my god!" Isabel broke out into a full-bellied laughter, inadvertently causing Ed to break into laughter too. He supposed it was just contagious, laughter among the four of them. He'd figured it was going to be one of their few solaces, and sure enough he felt his heart lifting itself out of the muck that was impending depression. "P-Poor Mister Spender!"

"Oh, how about the time he and Isaac switched bodies?" Max finished off the last of his coke, eyes wide and bright as he recalled his fond, ten-year-old memory.

"Oh no," Isaac bent over and put his head in his hands, but he smiled all the same "please don't. That's one of the worst things that's ever happened to me. You guys switched bodies, too!"

"Oh my god, and Mister Spender thought the only way to switch back was to hit our heads together!" Ed remembered that very well. More than anything, he recalled Spender and Isaac being the only ones to go ramming their heads into each-other. The rest of them had faked it, both because it was a horrible idea and for the comedic value.

"What did I just say?" Isaac was laughing just as hard as everyone else was, but he pretended to be infuriated anyway.

The laughter died out and there was silence again. They all looked at their laps, drinks, hands- whatever kept their minds busy. Ed didn't think any of them really knew how important Spender had been. It was sad, and cliché, but it was the truth. He hadn't ever really thought about it. Spender had just sort of always been there. He was the first spectral Ed had met his first night at the dojo, before Isabel was even a thought in his life. He remembered feeling terrified of the large bulky man that roamed the dojo in what looked like a bathrobe at the time, and remembered even more vividly actually trembling the longer he stood at the front door. He still remembered squealing when an older child (a young man, actually) appeared seemingly out of nowhere beside him. Eighteen-year-old Spender had glanced down at him, and his smile was one of the warmest Ed had ever seen. He asked if Ed was the new recruit, then asked what his name was- the usual, but it helped Ed's nerves settle. Once Spender had introduced himself as, well, Spender, he'd bent down, taken Ed's small hand in his own, and said: "You're going to really like it here".

That'd been the end of it. From then on, Spender made a constant effort to be involved. He'd become somewhat a father to Ed in his time away from home, what with keeping him out of trouble, guiding him with borderline fatherly advice, and the occasional warm familial embrace. Spender taught him everything Guerra couldn't. When threats and insults and chores didn't work, Spender eased the pressure with a kind word or two. That was actually how Ed learned to bond with Muse. Ironically, the 'manly man' who ruled his dojo with an iron fist wasn't able to tell Ed how to make friends with another manly man, but Spender could. He always called Ed the low maintenance member, but he'd done more than enough to earn Ed's respect and admiration and adulation. If Ed had been low-maintenance in Spender's book, he couldn't imagine what he'd done for Isabel or Isaac or even Max.

"So what's gonna happen now?"

Isabel shrugged in response to Isaac's question, lips thinning. "Well, Grandpa's already called the middle school and told them, so they'll be looking for a replacement. Knowing our parent organization, they're gonna send another spectral to take over the club."

"So they're gonna replace Spender? Just like that?" Max raised an eyebrow, tone raising like his voice was. He was offended. That made sense. Ed didn't like it, either.

"I know." Isabel held out her hand, gesturing for Max to hand her a coke. He reached out to the eight-pack he and Isaac bought on the way over, ripping one away from its plastic with probably unintentional malice and handed it over. "But what else are they supposed to do? He's got seven classes full of kids, you know? What if another kid's a spectral and a non-spectral gets the job?"

"Yeah, I get that, but-!"

"Eddy!"

There was a flash of blonde coming around the corner, faster than most of the club would have anticipated. Ed stood up from the dining chair he'd leaned against one of the walls, opening his arms. Cindy leaped from feet away, right into his clasp. She squeezed him around the neck, digging her head into his shoulder as she took long, shuddering gulps of air. Ed breathed in the smell of flour and sugar as he twirled her around, squeezing her as tightly as he could before letting the tips of her toes brush against the wood of the dojo floor. When they pulled away, he noticed just how bad she really looked. Her usually neatly-curled blonde hair was in a messy bun that was definitely falling out and hastily tied up. Her favorite pink and white flower dress was replaced by a pair of sweat-pants and a baggy off-the-shoulder t-shirt that said "Live Your Life", orange spaghetti stains all over the words. She turned away from him without another word, hurtling into Isaac and crushing him in a hug, too. "I'm so sorry! Oh my god, I just heard from my parents this morning!" The cycle continued until she'd hugged Max and Isabel, too. She stayed in Isabel's arms the longest, squeezed the tightest, clutching and digging her head into her shoulder. If Isabel was put off by the interaction, she didn't show it. She nodded and closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Cindy's waist without complaint.

Cindy pulled away first, leaving her arms around Isabel's neck. Ed could see her skin was covered in smeared eyeliner and mascara, eyes bloodshot and wide. She didn't look quite as bad as Isabel had the night before, but she wasn't far off. "How are you holding up?" It was a whisper, but Ed still knew what Cindy had asked. Isabel gave her a weak smile and shrugged. Cindy took it as a sign that Isabel needed another hug, so she pulled her close again.

There was a cough on the other side of the room, prompting the three that weren't locked in a tearful embrace to look. A tall woman stood there, hands clasping a small dark orange clutch bag. Her long dirty blonde hair fell in a braid over her shoulder, a dull yellow hair tie keeping it in place. Her posture was unusually straight, like she'd been standing there listening to Master Guerra berating her for hours on end or had an unusually long rod up her nether region. She blinked her oddly dark purple eyes at everyone in the room, like she was surprised there were so many of them. "Hello. My name is Berenice Guillory." She readjusted the glasses at the edge of her nose, swallowing nervously. Her lips twitched. "First I want to say that I am sorry for your loss. Richard Spender was a good man and a good spectral. Our world has become a darker place in his death." Isabel and Cindy pulled away from each-other, Cindy rubbing at one eye viciously while Isabel pressed whatever she was feeling down past her stomach and into her feet. Ed watched her do it, blink and collect herself at a moment's notice as though all she had to do was drink it down like scotch. It unnerved him, sometimes. He wished that she'd feel loss more often- rather, let herself feel loss more often. "I am also sorry to say, especially to his loved ones, that I am his mandatory replacement. The consortium sent me-"

Everyone sharply inhaled and glanced at Isaac, who blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. "What?"

Berenice readjusted her glasses again, waiting for a response with trembling legs.

Isabel took the step forward first, offering her hand with a maturity Ed rarely saw in her. He would have been expecting her to get mad, throw a fit that Spender hadn't even had a funeral before his replacement was standing in front of them, but he knew her better. She respected Spender too much to bring her wrath upon the agency he'd served so loyally in life. Berenice gave her a wide smile, one that unsettled Ed in its honesty, and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Miss Guillory. My name is Isabel. We're-"

"Richard's former students, yes I know who you are but I" Her eyes traveled the room slowly, the ends of her words drawn out to a slur "don't know your names?"

Ed figured that if Isabel was ready to take the first step, then he was too. "I'm Ed." Berenice nodded and shook his hand before turning her attention to Max and Isaac. The two seemed less than interested in interaction. They glanced at each-other with agreed malice in their eyes, but Max came forward anyway.

"My name is Max and that's my friend Isaac." Ed watched as Isaac's narrowed eyes became wide, his mouth opening and closing. It had been a very long time since he'd seen Isaac pout, but it was definitely a childish grimace on his face. He crossed his arms and glanced away, rolling around the ice in his cup.

Berenice laughed and nodded. "Nice to meet you, Max" she glanced at Isaac "Isaac."

They both nodded, and Berenice turned her attention to Cindy. "You are…?"

She was meant with more resistance than Ed would have expected out of a girl like Cindy. She stood as tall and tense as everyone else in the room felt, her green eyes baring into Berenice's soul.

"Cindy. I'm not a former student of Mister Spender's, but I like to think I was a friend." Cindy didn't offer her hand, but Berenice reached out and shook it anyway. The touch was limp and unrequited, evidently troubling Miss Guillory, who laughed under her breath and dropped the shake moments in.

"Nice to meet you as well, Cindy."

"Hm…"

"The consortium" Isabel coughed and glanced at Isaac "they sent a replacement awfully fast. Usually they don't operate so efficiently." That much was true. It never took a long time for word to travel, but action in the consortium was different. There were so many spectrals with so many differing opinions, choosing to take action so soon was usually impossible. The choice to replace Spender must have been unanimous.

"Richard was a man of prominence among us. Leaving his place open for too long would've been" Berenice gave another awkward smile "a considerably precarious failure on our part. Mayview is enough of a hot-spot with activity as it is."

Ed snorted. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Oh, but we would." She opened her clutch and took out her phone, presumably checking for messages before putting it away. "Richard had a lot of duties that were going to be left unattended to. Suffice to say they were imperative enough the consortium" the club collectively hissed under their breathes again, leaving Berenice and Isaac to glance around in silent confusion "thought it best he be immediately replaced."

"They couldn't wait until he was cold in the ground first?" Berenice seemed unfazed at Max's indignant tone, almost as if she'd ignored what he'd said completely. She turned to him with yet another awkward smile, eyes squinted enough that it looked fake.

"As I said, his work was important enough that we couldn't wait."

* * *

Spender being replaced was, as much as Isaac grudged him, wrong. It was wrong on so many levels he couldn't even begin to rant about the injustice of it all. He'd served the paranatural world his entire life, never asking for anything in return. Then, in his death, on duty nevertheless, his reward was to lay in a ditch somewhere while Lady Guillory, with her fake awkwardness and her exaggerated professionalism, took over his life. Isaac almost felt glad he wasn't really considered a member of whatever parent group ran the club. He would never pledge his allegiance to such a shallow, heartless group of people, no matter what 'good' they thought they were doing. It was cruel and unusual to treat a human being's death with such a dismissive attitude. The clock hadn't even struck twenty-four hours before some evil broad was there trying to get buddy-buddy with the people who had loved and cared for Spender in life and mourned him in death. He'd been shocked that Isabel and Ed even spoke to her, let alone shook her hand. He'd been more than happy to let Max introduce both of them.

Even if he hadn't necessarily liked the way he'd done it…

He felt whatever anger he'd been feeling before dissipate into uncertain coyness. Isaac wasn't sure what he'd expected. It wasn't like they'd really talked about it. They'd kind of just gotten out of bed the next morning and acted like it never happened. That sucked, because Isaac couldn't really do that. He thought about it constantly, what it'd been like to hold Max in a way nobody else had- to know him in a way nobody else did. It was something he'd thought about lots of times over the years, but those were just fantasies he'd been in denial about anyway. The real thing- that was hard to forget, for him anyway. He was starting to think it was pretty easy for Max.

Isaac glanced up from his sandwich, watching Max take a bite of a probably cold pizza. They usually ate lunch together, when Isaac didn't have college classes and Max could get away with leaving school for lunch. Isaac was almost surprised he'd still agreed to lunch. Max treated him just the same, but was that a good thing? Was Max supposed to treat him the same way? He couldn't help but feel like there should have been some difference to their relationship. He should have been catching Max eyeing him up and down, or playing footsies with him under the table, or just holding hands and shooting each-other heated gazes. Instead Max still made witty, mildly insulting, comments and teased him. Isaac hadn't heard a flattering word out of Max's mouth since. He hadn't squeezed Isaac's leg or held him- or kissed him. God, they weren't even flirting!

Maybe he wouldn't have been so worried if he'd known what he meant to Max. _'This is my friend', he says. 'If you're getting a vibe that says we slept together, it doesn't mean anything! Hoo hoo!'_ Isaac rolled his eyes and took a very long sip of his soda. Why didn't he introduce Isaac as his boyfriend- lover, even, if he wasn't ready for that kind of commitment? Was he trying to hide their budding romance? Max certainly was the type to cover something up if it didn't quite fit the image he frantically tried to convince everyone of. But then he could have just told Isaac that! He might've understood…

What if Max regretted it? Isaac choked on his drink, shooting soda out of his nose so far it hit Max's arm. Max startled and looked up. "Dude! What the hell?"

"Sorry, sorry!" Isaac coughed and wiped at his nose and mouth with one of the napkins he'd, on an off-chance, picked up on the way to the table. It wasn't something he usually did, so excited to get back to Max to spend optimum time together, but he had a lot on his mind today.

Max regretted it. That had to be it! But why? Did he just not wanna risk their friendship? Isaac could see that. He was pretty sure that was why Ed hadn't grown a pair, yet… Did he do something to turn Max off? Did he talk in his sleep? Did he snore?

Oh god.

Was he bad?

Isaac just about hacked up a lung, bending over and trying to ignore the burning in his nose. Max watched him with wide eyes, setting down his pizza. It was with great curiosity that he saw Isaac sit up straight, cough a little more, then go back to hacking up every bit of air he breathed.

Oh god, that was it! He was bad enough that Max didn't want to be in a committed relationship! But what had he done wrong? It was hard to remember exactly what had gone on. It was all a blur of flying limbs among other- more descriptive- activities. Isaac felt his entire body heat up.

"Isaac, dude. You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Onions, chicken, alfredo…. What else did he need?

Ed glanced down at his shopping list, frowning when the letters were too blurry to read. He hadn't slept well last night. Between feeling hopelessly numb about Spender and the effects of a midnight coffee, he was still lost. He knew himself pretty well, or he liked to think that he did, so he didn't understand why finding something he wanted to do the rest of his life was so hard. Isaac was already in college studying foreign languages, Max knew what he was gonna do- and so did Isabel. Cindy was the only other person with little clue what she was doing, and she had a safety net he didn't have. Knowing he was the only one going through such indecision made it so much harder to take. He'd known from experience, the threat of being left behind was a damaging one. He had to figure out what he was going to do, and he had to do it fast.

"Ed?"

Ed turned around. "Oh, Miss Baxter! How are you? It's been a while!"

She smiled and switched the arm her basket was sitting on. "I'm doing fine, but I heard about Richard's passing." Ah, there it was- the empathy. Miss Baxter was known for it when she wasn't screaming. Her kind russet eyes batted at him so sweetly he almost felt sick. He didn't deserve it. He wasn't in mourning- not yet. "How are you?"

Ed tried to muscle up one of his usual smiles, but he just didn't have it in him. "I'm doing alright. Isabel's a little worse than I am, but she'll be okay." An understatement, but true just the same.

"I hope so." Baxter turned to her right and grabbed some vitamins, studying the brand to be sure it was her usual before dropping it into her basket. "It's a shame to see such a good man go so young. He wasn't much older than me."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say."

"Only the good die young?"

They chuckled together, and it was awkward and sad but it made him feel a little better. Baxter's smile fell and he truly saw how sad she was. She seemed so pale compared to the light tan she usually had. Her ponytail sat off near her left ear rather than perfectly aligned with the base of her head. One side of her skirt was hitched higher than the other and he could see that her pantyhose had runs in them. "Do you know when the funeral is?"

"Sometime this weekend. I'll make sure to stop by Mayview Middle and let you know when we settle on the time and place."

"I think I speak for myself and my coworkers when I say that I'd like that very much." They turned and started walking down the dairy aisle together, Baxter taking a gallon of milk and him a box of ice cream. "Anyway, off to a less morbid topic. Any plans for college?"

Ed felt everything in him drop again, and suddenly he was right back to where he started. He shrugged and looked down into his own basket, mentally going over the list again. Onions, chicken, alfredo, ice cream, what else? "I guess I'm going to Mayview Community."

"I guessed you were going to stay close to home. Any idea what you'll be majoring in?"

Ed fell silent. Baxter must have seen it in his face, because she patted his shoulder. "Why don't you rant and post it on some form of social media? I'm sure you'll find some good advice from somebody who's been in your shoes." That wasn't a horrible suggestion. Sometimes he forgot that the world stretched a little farther than Mayview. The internet wasn't limited to the kids he grew up with or the adults that were so different in walks of life, which meant somebody somewhere had to be able to tell him what to do!

Ed reached out and squeezed Baxter, thanking her profusely before diving into one of the lines for the cash register. Baxter seemed entirely unfazed. She was, after all, his teacher at one point. She'd learned very well that Ed was an enthusiastic young man, passionate about life.


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn't raining that day, but it wasn't bright and sunny and there were no birds singing. Even so, with every man and woman and child that walked the field yards before the dojo, there seemed to be a looming shadow. Oddly enough, no one cried. All the tears had come and gone, made their second rounds and fallen again. The dark wooden casket that sat above a hole Master Guerra himself had dug was empty- everyone knew it. To open the box and see it lined with soft golden cloth, the color of his aura, was to be reminded all at once that there was nothing to cling to for comfort. There was no reassurance that he'd died painlessly, or even that they had something to remember him by. To look upon the beds of gladiolis and lilies that would have been at his side, it was to remember that he couldn't see them or smell them or touch them, even if a ghost they couldn't see still lingered among them. The normal comforts were valueless to them, because they knew well he wasn't still with them and he was not watching over them- they would have spoken to him and held him had that been so.

Isabel stood in line behind Zarei, who stood with glasses so foggy she couldn't see her eyes. Zarei held a bouquet of crimson roses, a single red orchid sticking out among the petals that already felt like they were wilting. Zarei exhaled and Isabel could see her shake and grind her teeth. Slowly, gently, she placed the bouquet on the casket, the tips of her fingers lingering just so as she inched away. Master Guerra was waiting on the other end, having said his goodbyes and made his amends before anyone else. Isabel had never seen the man as affectionate, not as a child older than seven, but he took Zarei in his arms and clutched her like she was his own flesh and blood.

"Isabel," Ed placed a hand at her shoulder and squeezed. She nodded. Holding up the line wasn't going to make letting go any easier.

In her hand was a small cluster of hydrangeas, three or so yellow roses scattered among the bunch. She squeezed them in the palms of her hands so harshly she felt their stems snapping. She was grateful the casket was latched shut because, had she seen his photo and not his pale peaceful face, she would have broken. Isabel knew what that would have felt like, or at least what she imagined it would have felt like. She would have felt the air leave her chest and a burning in her nose and she would have sobbed before the tears ever came. Not even Ed's embrace or Isaac's kind hands in her hair or Max's tender words would have steadied her. Even now, nothing could bring her release from the fraught strings in her chest. She felt like dying. Isabel kissed her flowers, one at a time, closing her eyes so he knew (even though he never would) that she meant every single kiss for him. She did.

She found it was less of a choice than she thought, the gentleness with which she left her flowers on his grave. Zarei had been powerless when she'd said her goodbyes, a feeling Isabel now knew well. "Thank you" it was a whisper on her lips "Thank you so much. For everything." She choked back the gulp of air she wanted to take, sniffing as she placed her forehead where she'd set her flowers.

Ed placed his white chrysanthemums on the casket, kissing two of his fingers and pressing them to the polished wood. His arm wrapped around Isabel and he pulled her into him, whispering reassurances she couldn't even hear. All she heard were the tears she hadn't let out, the body-wracking sobs she was too strong to let everyone see. He helped her away as Isaac set his white tulips on the grave and Max twirled his red and pink carnations between his weary fingers.

After the twenty or so minutes she took to compose herself in the dojo's restroom and a five-minute trek back and forth, Isabel felt a little more confident. She'd checked each of her tells thoroughly- held a cold rag to her red cheeks, washed her face, redid what little makeup she wore- and trudged out the front door, straight to her grandfather.

He was keeping his distance, like he was scrutinizing his students and fellow spectrals even at a time when it was fruitless. Then again, she might have been projecting. She'd become so used to his dissecting stare that she expected it- always. It'd been a long time since they'd been in a position he wouldn't have been eyeing everyone with some sense of smugness. She knew he was human, too, that he wasn't always Malicious Master Guerra; she just couldn't remember the man behind the dojo.

She came to a stop beside him, letting her arms fall from where they sat across her chest, hands balled in fists because it helped her stay calm.

"You're stalling."

"I'm thinking" he grumbled, stroking the length of his beard. "Neither you nor I are at our best, young lady."

"That's never been an excuse before." He hummed like she'd amused him. That hadn't been her intention. If she was expected to focus on anything other than the funeral she was currently in the middle of attending, then she had to be taken seriously. If he was pausing and stalling and taking forever to give her an answer, like he wasn't sure she was ready to hear it, then there was little to occupy her thoughts. She was done crying and mourning. There was business to attend to.

"You have become as fierce as my little Mina."

"I've always been like this!"

He reached out and grabbed her arm firmly, not enough to hurt her like he could have, but enough to silence her. She forced the instinct to startle down and met his eyes, which gazed between her and the rest of the funeral with a soreness she'd never seen in him. He was grieving, too, trying to hide it just as she was. The look she'd misconstrued as scrutinizing was one of deliberation- concentration to keep from letting his students see what laid beyond their competent master. She bit her lip and sighed, nodding before he let his grip fall. "Not to me, you haven't."

"Grandpa…"

"If you are so curious, I hesitate to find a replacement because I wish I had another choice." He crossed his arms as he watched the small crowd, just a few people Spender had come to know and love. Isabel, albeit happy to see the event was so familial (what Spender would have preferred) with only his students and closest friends attending, was unsettled to see no consortium agents. It was either a sign of disrespect or foul play, and the fact that she couldn't tell had her seething. Whatever- or whoever, she was starting to think- it was that had taken Spender from them so soon had a much bigger game in mind. Heaven knew if one of them would be next. It would be smart for what remained of the club to stick together, at least in pairs of two. Wandering alone might just become a death sentence. "I have thought on this often, and while I recognize the consequence of the sacrifice implied, it is my only option."

Isabel raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Grandpa Guerra sighed and stared down at her, nose twitching in distaste- or was that remorse? "The only spectral as capable of running my dojo as Richard is you."

* * *

"How are you doing?" Cindy asked the question innocently enough, stirring the small black straw the café provided, the cream and sugar piled atop her medium coffee melting. The dark and bitter drink turned a milky light brown. Cindy was the type of person who put so much sugar in her coffee that every sip felt like sand on a tongue, and Isabel could smell it. She took a long sip of her own Frappuccino.

"I'm fine."

She was lying, of course. While Spender's funeral had lifted some kind of burden from her shoulders, she found it'd been replaced by a completely new one. She'd never thought her grandfather a protective man, at least not over her or any other living being, but it was clear that was his intent in leaving the dojo to Spender. She was his blood, his graduate, his granddaughter, and his prodigy; of course he thought that she was the best fit for master of the dojo. It just surprised her, she guessed, that he'd had the foresight to realize she wouldn't want the job. Did she want the job? She wasn't sure. She'd always wanted to be an agent of the consortium- somebody on the battlefield who was in the thick of battle, otherwise she felt her abilities were wasted. Becoming the master of the dojo meant giving up all of that. In exchange for coworkers, she'd get students. In exchange for battle, she'd get the occasional sparring match with a promising pupil. In exchange for stories to tell, she'd hear them through the men and women she taught. She didn't want that, but at the same time she knew there was nobody else who could do it. Her grandfather would work himself to his early grave and she wasn't sure she could handle saying goodbye again so soon.

"That's good…" Cindy's gaze fell to her coffee, which she was still stirring for some odd reason. It might've been the heat of the drink, but Isabel could see her cheeks turning red. "How is Eddy?"

Something green and pointy stabbed her in the chest, but she nipped it down. She shouldn't have been surprised Cindy was asking about Ed, especially after a loss like they'd just been through. When she thought about it, Ed had been acting strangely as of recent. When she spoke to him, he rarely smiled, and she could tell it was the same for everyone else he spoke to. Most of his days were spent up in his room, messing around and playing games she knew were familiar to him. He'd bought new ones over the last six years, but she heard the distinct space-blaster effects of his older, more nostalgic, ones. It upset her, to the deepest, darkest level of her heart, that he wasn't talking to her. They were supposed to be best friends- as tightly knit as a quilt and thicker than steel- but she was starting to feel helpless. He'd been there for her when she was going through the worst of it, and he'd been there with a smile on his face even if she'd known it was forced. He'd listened to her rant for hours about how stupid it was that fate decided, probably off-handedly, to just rip someone like Spender out of their lives like a dirty welcome mat. Yet, when he needed her, truly, painfully needed her, and she knew it, he wouldn't come to her. Maybe she wasn't the best at being a jester, but she damn well knew how to cheer Ed up. It was like he was deliberately hiding it from her, like she couldn't tell when he was happy or sad or scared or lonely; she knew everything about him by heart, same as he did her!

She felt insulted and helpless and just so mad at herself for not being able to reach him, but that wasn't something anyone needed to know.

Isabel smiled, albeit weakly and dishonestly. "He's doing fine!"

"Oh, that's great!" Cindy's eyes lit up, the shy smile that'd been on her face stretching into a grin worthy of Ed's own face- a small reminder they were cousins and not love interests, but Isabel latched onto it anyway. "Would you tell him to stop by sometime? I finally have a cookie recipe down and I would love it if he tried them!"

"Yeah" Isabel trailed off, tracing the patterns on the table with her finger. "Sure thing."

* * *

Was it clingy to call somebody you were in love with two weeks after the last time you saw them? Isaac thought it might be.

He'd known Max for years. He was being ridiculous. All he had to do was pick up the phone, dial the number (not even- Max was on speed-dial), and wait for him to pick up. But no, he was a scardey cat who couldn't even text his best friend because he'd probably disappointed him and it was silly to worry about but for the love of everything good Isaac just couldn't handle the stress. He sighed and dug the back of his head further into his pillow, remembering the smell of Max's cologne when he'd been laying in the bed that didn't belong to him. He held his phone above his face, blinking and tapping the screen whenever it went dark. He'd been staring at Max's number for a solid half hour, chewing on his cheeks and fighting himself about everything. It always seemed like his head had a response to whatever his heart said, but the same was true vice versa. Being locked in a mental battle with himself over nothing but a phone call had to be bad.

To him, that moment, locked in Max's arms with their lips pressed together and their fingers intertwined, had been special. For the first time in a long time, he'd finally been true to his wants and his needs and true to himself- true to loving Max. Every touch of his arm and every embrace had meant something deeper to Isaac than spur-of-the-moment desire, and it tore him up just remembering Max's eyes baring into his when their noses touched. He wanted to feel overcome with adoration and joy and relief again. He wanted to hold Max's hand and love him with his gaze and just be there with him, but he was starting to wonder if Max wanted the same.

They still hadn't told anybody about it (okay, he might have let it slip to Doorman and the reaction was ten different shades of hilarious), and they maybe never would. Was it supposed to be a one-time thing? Was he supposed to carry on with Max like normal, like they hadn't opened up to each-other in the most intimate way possible? Like they hadn't seen and understood each-other on a completely different level? He wasn't sure. That was, perhaps, the thing that held him back more than anything else: Would Max think he was desperate if he wanted more?

His phone vibrated and he yelped, dropping the phone into his face. He winced as Max's ringtone buzzed in his ears. He pried the phone off of his nose so that it fell to his right ear, thumb only barley hitting the call button hard enough.

"Hello?"

"Hey, dude! Are you too busy weabooing all over the place to meet me at the mall? A new pizzeria opened up in the food court and ten bucks says it can't compare to our usual."

Isaac looked at the ceiling, smiled, and said "Sure. I'll meet you there."

* * *

"So, um…" Max rubbed the back of his neck, not entirely sure how to start a conversation. Pizza at the mall had probably been the worst excuse ever to ask Isaac out on a date, but it was the only thing he'd been able to think of. Teen novels had him believing 'going all the way' would make him more confident- happier, proud of himself, cooler- but, in reality, it'd made everything even worse. Before, he'd been able to take Isaac in from afar with little to no feeling (save for the painful yearning that was now gone, thank god), but now just the slightest glance had his heart racing unlike he'd ever felt. He'd tried to flirt, toss a few words around here and there- imply they do it again sometime- but it all came out like the usual backhanded compliments and teasing Isaac had already dealt with. He thought that maybe holding Isaac's hand would have worked, but he just wasn't the type to be physically affectionate in public. He could look cool while he talked, but there was no way to look like he had any control over his emotions or his body if he started whispering sweet nothings in front of large crowds of strangers. "How's your butt?" He nearly punched himself in the face.

That had to be the worst possible thing he could say, because Isaac's face went so incredibly red that Max thought he was having a heatstroke of some sort. "Uh," Isaac giggled- freaking giggled- and scratched his cheek. Adoration welled in Max's chest watching him fuss over his timidity. "It was um… sore… for a little while, but it's okay now." His gaze fell to the table and Max almost broke out into hearty laughter. That, he realized, was no way to win his boyfriend's affection. Boyfriend- that's what they were, right? Eh, maybe not. They hadn't exactly went into specifics last time they'd been alone. That was clearly the goal, but maybe the deal hadn't been sealed quite yet. "Yours?"

"Uh, yeah I'm fine."

They stared at each-other for a moment before looking back down at their meals, falling into a painful silence. Wow, that'd turned awkward really, really fast. Of course, it'd been an awkward situation to start with. Max licked his lips of last bite's sauce and bit into his pizza again. He guessed it was to be expected, considering they hadn't even kissed before that entire thing happened, but he still felt uncomfortable with all of it.

In truth, sleeping with Isaac had been a mistake, and entirely why he hadn't brought it up in conversation with the others. It was last-minute, completely unprecedented from one side (as far as he'd been able to tell), and they'd been dealing with it with wild immaturity. In fact, had Spender still been alive, he was sure he and Isaac would have gotten a lengthy, and embarrassing, scolding from him on the importance of protection and marriage. While Max wouldn't have agreed with every little word of it- clearly- waiting until they weren't as emotional would have been a good idea. Being so overwhelmed with grief was just as bad as being intoxicated. They hadn't been thinking straight, they'd been rushing things, and now their entire relationship was on the line. "Wasn't like it dealt with a lot."

Isaac choked on his soda so hard that some came out of his nose. It was the second time that month he'd done that and Max was starting to wonder if that was going to be a regular thing from then on. "I-!" Isaac wiped his nose and mouth with a flimsy white napkin he'd grabbed from the middle of the food court table. "I'm sorry? Did you just imply what I think you implied?"

"I don't know," Max gave him a devilish grin and shrugged. "Did I?" In hindsight, maybe making fun of Isaac for that sort of thing was just a little out of bounds, especially in a new relationship- or new whatever it was they had. It wasn't like he was serious- it was purely a joke, funny because it wasn't true. Of course, assuming Isaac would pick up on that was probably his first mistake.

Isaac's confused, furrowed brows turned down, his blue eyes narrowing almost dangerously. In that moment, Max felt kind of like an enraged spirit with a record, something Isaac would have loved to have mercy on. Though mercy, as he read the situation, was probably far out of his reach. "Funny, coming from the guy who has little room to complain about anything being tiny, ever- considering the size of his heart."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Isaac, I was joking!"

"Yeah, well I wasn't and you're not funny."

"Said the least amusing guy on the face of this planet!" Max felt his irritation level rising- fast, which wasn't at all what he'd been going for but whoops it was happening anyway. Isaac had absolutely no right to talk about small hearts, not when it'd taken years of pining on his end just to get Isaac to think about them being together. Isaac snorted and stood up, movement so fast he knocked his chair over.

"Oh, yeah! Good job, Max! Dig your grave a little deeper!"

"Deeper than you went!" _Yikes, nice comeback, twelve-year-old me._

Isaac scoffed and rolled his eyes as Max came to stand, too. "Wow, you're so mature!"

"Wow, your sarcasm cuts deep!"

Isaac grabbed his tray and tossed it into the garbage with extreme malice, Max mirroring his movements with exaggerated vehemence intended to mock Isaac. "You know what? We're done here. I'm going home."

"Be my guest! Nobody wants to deal with your teenage angst!"

It was on the walk home, alone, that Max really felt the guilt fall over him.


	7. Chapter 7

"Okay…" Ed readjusted the camera so that it was angled down at him a little more, blinking when the red light hit his eyes. "So that probably means you're on…"

The entire set-up had taken around two or three hours to really complete, primarily because he'd had a hard time reading the directions and downloading the software took for freaking ever. He glanced at his computer screen, double-checking his suppositions. Once he knew that the camera was indeed on and ready, he sighed and faced the lens again. "Okay, so, um…"

Oh no, where was he supposed to start? There was so much he wanted to say- so much he wanted to get off his chest. Which topic did he run with first? Why would anyone care about what he had to say? He frowned and shook his head, exhaling just before giving the camera the widest smile he could muster. It wasn't much, because he really honest to god didn't feel like smiling, but it was expected. People wouldn't tune in to see an emo kid scowl all day. "My name is Ed and uh, I've been through some stuff lately." Was that good? He thought that was good. "And I really don't have any place else to go to, so I guess I'm turning to the internet for help."

* * *

She'd never spoken to Misses Spender. Heck, she wasn't even sure she'd ever seen the woman. Spender tended to keep his spectral life very separate from his normal one when the spectral world wasn't consuming him. At least, that'd been her observation. She hadn't known him too well, not compared to Isabel or Eddy.

Cindy wondered what it must have been like, seeing her husband run off with likely little explanation. She must have worried a lot, if not all the time. She must have wondered why her husband didn't tell her things- didn't explain to her why he was coming home with scars and bruises and bloodied shirts. Cindy didn't think she could have handled that, feeling like an accessory to the man she loved more than anything else. In those regards, she looked up to Misses Spender. She thought it took a strong woman to see past all of that, to let him come home into her arms just so he could leave her again next morning. Spender had been a good man, she thought with burning eyes, so it only made sense that he married a woman with a heart even bigger than his own.

Cindy knocked on the door hesitantly, playing with the small notecard she'd folded in her hands. It was pink and she'd sprayed a little bit of her perfume on it, just for an extra reason to pick it up. After all, there were few people who didn't enjoy the smell of vanilla and strawberries. She knew it was a useless wish- that the card would likely be forgotten or discarded before she even read it, but Cindy still felt it necessary to try. "Misses Spender?"

She wondered if she cried often. A bigger heart was easier to hit, after all, and that was something Cindy knew well. To love a man with a whole life he lived without you, to know you could never understand him the way he understood you…

It meant sure heartbreak.

There was no answer at the door, no quiet sounds of a weeping widow or the creak of a wooden floor under pale feet. There was only silence, which Cindy also understood.

Then again, just being in his life was a blessing in and of itself. To know you might not have been his entire world the way he was yours; that was pain. Knowing you mattered just as much, if not more, to him than any other slice of his life- well, that was all a girl needed. Cindy hummed and left the notecard tucked under the corner of the doormat. She glanced at the ink scrawled with pictures across the front of it, her name and number with a simple message.

 _"If you ever need anyone…"_

She decided she'd pick up the ingredients to make cookies on the way home.

* * *

He looked alone, more than he'd ever looked before. He was sitting there on the front step of her porch with his head hung and his body so still she was surprised to see him breathe. It was a heavy release of air, a sigh so sad her heart was snapping in two. The lime green of his jacket, which he wore not even in the cold of winter, it was bright against the black creaking steps to her front door. Cindy tilted her head, her fingers toying nervously with each-other behind her back. "Eddy?"

He said nothing, only turned his gaze from his shoes to her face, meeting her eyes with a look she didn't quite know how to mend. There were bags under his eyes so dark she couldn't remember what he looked like without them, as if that maniacal smile of his was always so dark and pained. She was glad he didn't try to force a smile for her; that would have been too much. The closer she grew, the more she could see him shaking under his clothes, trembling beneath the weight of his troubles. She grinned at him and held up the plastic bag, full of icing and flour and chocolate chips, letting her small giggle strangle the awkward air between them.

When she offered him a cookie, he waved it away. "Eddy…"

"I'm really not hungry, Cindy."

Though upset he refused her again, she slid the plate of cookies closer to herself, the fire raging and flickering as she bent over the coffee table. She had to be careful with that plate, after all. It was a hand-me-down. She thought a warm fire on a soft couch would have helped him, but he didn't look any better than he had on her front porch. He hadn't said much, which was so unlike him that it left her longing for the old Ed. She decided to just have faith that it would pass, that whatever was tearing the club's jester into pieces would leave him in the same smoky cloud of air it'd arrived on. "It's finally hitting me."

"I thought so…"

Ed swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. They were pale, paler than usual. She wasn't sure if that was because of the crisp spring air he'd willingly subjected himself to (for the sake of seeing her, which had her stomach churning in circles), or because of the sheer intensity with which his hands locked together. It was the worst she'd ever seen him, the one night where he looked nothing like himself. Those sorrowful lines she was seeing then, in the light of the fireplace in the heat of loss, they made him look older. He was drowning himself in his pain, keeping to himself and dying on the inside. Loss did that to a person- took the best things about someone and ripped it all away until, piece by piece, they were rebuilt. He had to be rebuilt. Had to be. "I was bored, you know? So I just kinda popped this old game into my console- one I played when I was a kid, with Izzy and stuff." He sighed and leaned forward, weighing himself on his elbows and knees. "And it just kind of hit me. Out of nowhere, for no reason." She frowned and set a hand just below his shoulder. "Wasn't even like the game had anything to do with him. It just" he swallowed again and shook his head "it just came out of nowhere."

Cindy closed the space between the two of them, holding his hands in one as her other ran circles into his back. "I know, Eddy. I know."

"And it's not even like" He choked on his words. Despite his best efforts, she knew, he'd break down anyway. It happened to everyone- Ed was long overdue his own round. "It's not even like I can tell Izzy, you know? I mean, she's got this whole inheriting the dojo thing over her head and she's already dealt with this and…" His entire body was trembling. He shook his head "… and I'm left behind again!"

He broke into sobs, undignified and ingenuous and so completely human. Cindy took him into her arms entirely, letting him burrow his head into her chest as sob after sob wracked his body. She hushed him softly, running one hand through his hair.

* * *

Training was really all she could do these days to keep her mind off of everything else going on. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy it, but doing it most of the day, all alone, wasn't one of the most fun activities. Isabel sent one spectral shot at the bullseyes, then another, and another and another until she'd hit every single one square in the middle. There was a horizontal line of nothing but holes, and she could see the wall behind them if she squinted enough.

Owning the dojo had never been her dream, but taking it over might have been the right (morally right) choice. What was Grandpa Guerra going to do if she didn't take the job? Would he continue as the master until his early grave like she was expecting he would? Or would he find another passable student, albeit not his first pick? She'd tried sleeping on it, mediation, hot cups of tea, and even talking to Spender, but the solution was never any clearer than it had been. What choice was she supposed to make? Was it even a choice, or an expectation?

Isabel frowned and powered up another spectral shot. The red flame grew at the tip of her finger, each wave growing madder and more vicious with every pulse of emotion she felt circle in the center of her chest. She let out a screech as she fired the shot off, hitting the bullseye with no issue. The aura burned a hole so deep and fast that it was still as loose as a bullet by the time it hit the wall and faded into nothing. She sighed and bent over, hands clutching at her knees where her capris fell. There was the sound of the front doors opening and she glanced to the side, fully expecting to see one of the younger students just returning home from whatever after school activities they had going. She knew the youngest ones, the elementary schoolers, they messed around in the woods together. She remembered those years well, sparring with the other students her age because it was fun when her ever-expectant grandfather wasn't watching. She assumed the kids did the same, judging by the dirt and grass and stickers that covered their tiny shirts and shoes.

She stood up when she saw it was Ed, eyes tired behind his glasses and body so exhausted it looked like he wanted to fall where he stood. He slid the large wooden door closed, and she watched with great interest as he pressed his forehead against the wall when it latched. "Welcome home" she sounded happier than she should have been, because he wasn't well and she knew that "I went to go ask you to spar and you weren't here. I figured you needed some fresh air. You have been cooped up in your room for, like, a week after all."

Ed didn't really respond. He just pulled away from the door and smiled at her, then stood there with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. He looked three feet shorter. She wanted to get closer to him, ask him what was wrong, but it wasn't the moment yet. _Start a conversation, then slide into the question._ "Where'd you go?"

"To Cindy's."

That late at night? It was eleven o'clock and he'd been gone for at least two hours. Jealousy twisted in her gut, green and horrible and awful to feel at a moment where he might've needed her. She wasn't able to swallow it down, not when she couldn't concentrate on it, so she ignored it entirely. Ed glanced away, refusing to meet her eyes. There was a small smile on his face, one she didn't recognize. In all of their years together, she'd never seen his lips curl like that, just like that, in that way that made her heart fall into her stomach. What was that he was feeling? There was pain there, but what else? Fear? Fatigue? Shame?

"Cool! What'd you guys talk about?"

Ed shrugged and turned his back to her, beelining for the stairs before a word left his lips. "Nothing. Um, I'm pretty tired, Izzy. I'm gonna head to bed. 'Night."

She froze, every muscle in her body tensing as she watched him climb their wooden staircase, up to the room where his name presented painted in black ink. There it was- him avoiding the subject, like he was ashamed of himself or something he'd done or- oh god- in her!

That was new, him avoiding her, not telling her things. He'd been there for her the entire time she'd been grieving Spender's loss. He was there when she sat up at two in the morning with a cold glass of milk she couldn't get down, holding her hand and whispering supportive words she could still hear in her head. He'd been there when she fought to tie her hair up before the funeral, wordlessly running his fingers through her hair, each move breaking the tangles she'd created in her struggle. He'd been there when she woke up from nightmares she couldn't even remember, and dreams she wished she could. He'd invited her into his room, where they played video games well into early morning because, hey, he wasn't interested in sleeping either.

And then she wasn't allowed to help him. He wouldn't let her. Over a decade of friendship and trust and he wouldn't just tell her what was wrong. For some reason, one she couldn't even begin to comprehend, he searched for solace in Cindy, in a girl that would never understand him as well as she did. He was willingly pushing her away and she couldn't do anything about it. This time was different than the first.

She was powerless. No amount of communication on her part could fix anything if she didn't know what was wrong.

Isabel screamed and set another shot off, one so wide in diameter that it took the dummy's head clean off. Grandpa Guerra's word echoed in her head. _If there was love there once, it very well may bloom again._


	8. Chapter 8

The day had been fairly uneventful, both in the paranatural world and Max's home life. Most of the day was spent by Zoey's side, watching her fail at a wide array of video games and laughing at her when she miraculously (after the fortieth death) decided they were no longer worth her time. The afternoon had come and gone with as little occurrence as the morning had; Max had hardly noticed the birds turn to crickets and the spirits fall into lethargic behaviors.

The call had been unexpected- especially since the number lighting up his phone was unfamiliar. He'd answered it with caution, and continued the conversation with confusion when it was Berenice on the other end. How had she found his number? He hadn't remembered giving it to her. He didn't ask and she didn't willingly present the information, so he assumed Isabel was to blame. "I'm up to my neck in history papers. I have no idea how Richard did it." Max snickered. "I apologize. I've received word of suspicious activity in Mayview's woods. Since I am" Berenice paused, presumably to look over the piles of essays in stacks around her "indisposed… I was hoping the Activity Club could take a look?"

* * *

"Ed, you're coming with me. Max, Isaac, and Cindy- you three are together." Isabel was saying it before anybody else was out of the car. The car doors slammed shut behind her, but Isaac saw her eyes were in the trees. Isaac's gaze fell to Ed, who was sliding out of the driver's seat just as Isaac was moving to let Max out of the backseat. He seemed confused, scratching his blonde tendrils with a distant stare behind his glasses.

"Hey, Izzy? Mind repeating that? Your back's turned to us and it's kind of hard to hear you."

"What? Oh, uh, right." Isabel twisted around and coughed into her fist, her other hand falling to her hip. "Max and Isaac and Cindy- you three are together. Ed, you're coming my way."

Isaac flinched, fingers twitching at his legs because he was itching to say something. With the way things were going, him partnering with Max was not a fantastic idea. As it was, ties between them were pretty strained, not necessarily all by Max's fault. Placing the two of them in the wilderness with nothing but sweet passive Cindy was actually probably the worst possible thing to be done, let alone in a stressful situation like a breech in the barrier.

He was surprised Berenice presented the information without a struggle, considering the barrier was more or less a product and responsibility of the people Spender used to work for, but he'd been willing to help nevertheless. However, partnering with Max when things were still 'not great' between them was surely a mistake on Isabel's part.

Ed saluted. "Right-o."

Cindy sighed and nodded her head, her gaze (Isaac noticed) following Ed as he walked to Isabel's side. A small, devious grin inched across Isabel's face, and Isaac vaguely wondered why that must have been. She glanced from Cindy to Max to Isaac, eyes narrowed and daring, fingers tapping along her hips impatiently. She was bloodthirsty- anyone could see that. What else was new? "Any objections?" While Ed smiled from ear-to-ear and Cindy turned her head to the ground, Isaac's stare met Max's.

The reaction was immediate, a sudden pause of his heart and a rush of affection in his lungs, but then he saw the irritation on Max's face and his own anger bubbled up from the pits of his stomach. Max's brows were furrowed, his lips thin and his deep brown eyes blazing. His nose scrunched up and Isaac mirrored the movement, one hand clenched into a fist so tight he felt his knuckles turn pale. They both grimaced and, as they continued their heated glaring fest, raised their hands for Isabel to see. Isabel hummed, nodded her head, and smiled. "Alright then."

The hands that gripped Isaac's forearm and Max's wrist were freakishly strong and wholly threatening. They clenched the limbs with so much strength that Isaac was sure Isabel had the power to rip his shoulders clean off. Max froze in place, cold terror rising and overtaking the heat that'd been in his eyes before. Isaac's other arm flailed wildly in place, leaving him to grunt and whine without any compensation. "Listen" her voice was rough and unsettling, like a witch from one of the animes Isaac watched when he was a kid "I don't know what kind of beef you two have with each-other, let alone beef that lasts two or three weeks, but you two are going to get over it like you always do, got that?" They both nodded, and just like that she released them from her deathly grasp. "Glad to hear it. Let's split up."

* * *

Max and Isaac, Cindy had decided, were the most oblivious couple to ever walk planet Earth. That included every soap opera she'd ever watched and every cheesy romance novel she'd purchased on a whim some idle Saturday. They'd been doing nothing but arguing for two straight hours and she was being driven mad- mad enough to turn on her sandaled heels and march home.

She wondered why they hadn't hooked up yet. A small, tiny little voice in her mind suggested she'd simply misinterpreted their loose friendship, as they called it, but she needed only to remind herself that she was not the only person who thought they were romantic. She'd had several lengthy conversations with Isabel about the unbelievably, and she meant unbelievably, platonic relationship of their bickering friends. Even Spender himself had suggested that Max and Isaac "needed time to think" and that they'd "arrive at the correct solution to the problems" they were facing "given the opportunity". It was his own endearing way of keeping their noses out of it, but encouraging Max and Isaac to take the leap.

She supposed that she was just surprised it hadn't happened yet. In the six or so years that she'd known them, they were still fumbling around each-other in an awkward dance. It'd been cute at first, but every show had to come to an end.

"Great, now we're lost."

"Not my fault. You're the group leader, apparently." Max's voice was dripping with sarcasm, enough that Cindy could feel it coming off him in waves. Isaac must have felt something similar, because he grimaced and twisted around to jab a finger into Max's chest.

"Well you were distracting me with stupid tree puns!"

They were both silent, each of them with their own tell-tale scowls, Max and Isaac locked in a staring contest Cindy was almost scared to break up. There was nothing louder than her heart in her ears and the heatwaves in the air that echoed Isaac's frustration and Max's irritation. She remained as still as she could, for fear that the confrontation would get violent. She'd never seen the two of them break into punches and kicks and bruises and cuts, but she was unsure if they wouldn't. It was rare, but true, to be reminded that she didn't know them too well, even after six years. Their exasperation was her disquiet, and all she could do was sit still and hope she wouldn't have to drive someone's face into the ground.

Then, like the smart ass he was, a shit-eating grin reached from one of Max's ears to the other.

"Leaf me alone."

Cindy huffed in relief, but Isaac's face grew red. He pulled away from Max and screamed into the sky, hands clasping his short strings of hair.

Cindy fell to a tree stump, old and dying for years. She was more concerned about her vexation, though, and how absolutely exhausted she was of hearing her friends bicker like idiots. She began toying with the hem of her sundress. Her nimble fingers ran over the stitching, soft cotton against her skin almost calming to her.

They'd come to a stop in the middle of nowhere, a place at the very edge of the woods where the barrier laid only a few feet away. So far it seemed to be a dead end, and the closest thing to activity they'd seen all night was Isaac tripping over a small fairy-like family's residential log. Seeing Isaac plead for forgiveness from a sentient blade of grass with wings was funny, gut-burstingly so, but it didn't qualify as a successful mission. All they could hope for was better luck on Isabel's end.

"You are such a pain sometimes, you know that?"

"Like you aren't!" Max clasped his hands together and batted his eyelashes. "But you're Isaac! Everything you do is so good and pure! You've never made a mistake in your life, by golly!"

Isaac growled and clenched his fists, sneering at Max and digging his heels into the ground.

"At least I admit it when I do! I don't keep lying to myself and everyone around me!"

Max blinked, squinted, and slowly brought his head to tilt. "What, exactly, are you trying to pin on me, Isaac?"

"Guys! Shoosh!" Cindy waved a frantic hand, inching off of the seat she was beginning to find uncomfortable. The boys fell into another silence, auras growing at their fingertips. Cindy felt power sway in the palm of her hand, the other at her cell phone. Something rustled in the bushes across from them, slow as if observing them. She could see Max reach for his bat, tucked snuggly in the backpack he still lugged around. Isaac's hands popped with electricity, blue sparks bouncing and jolting in wait.

One spirit, purple and green with a body so human it might've been a ghost, took a step from beyond the shrubs. Its skin bubbled as though it'd been horribly burnt, and the stench it carried wasn't much better. Its eyes, which were in great number all along its neck and shoulders, blinked and cried ectoplasm. Max snorted in disgust; Cindy gagged. "Creepy and gross," Isaac mumbled "but nothing we can't handle."

And so they came to be surrounded by many, equally as disturbing spirits.

* * *

"Son of a…" Max reached down to grab the small wound on his upper arm. It was bleeding, but it wasn't as fatal as it felt. It stung like hell, and it ran deep, but he knew it was just his exhaustion talking. He winced and rolled to the side as another attack missed him by inches, a ghostly axe coming upon the grass with so much force that Max felt the ground shake. He swallowed and reached for his bat, gripping the handle in a weak hand. Adrenaline was good, but he was a little uneasy. His own blood was dripping down his arm, soaking the sweater he'd thrown on at the last minute. It was brand new, and part of him was a little disappointed he'd torn it so soon. Another part of him was giddy because the tear in the fabric made him look cooler.

"There's too many of them!"

He could hear Isaac cry from across the way, his blue eyes squinting as he struggled to keep his aura shields up. The small circle he made was breaking down all around him, and the panic he was feeling was all too evident on his face. A single side shattered, and Isaac used that hole to give his enemies a taste of lightning and rain. Two spirits fell to the ground, spurting water and trembling, but the others still persisted. Cindy took her phone and willed it into a blade the size of her thigh, taking another spirit and leaving Isaac an opportunity to escape.

Max came to stand and bolted in the direction they came, Isaac not far ahead. They both made a move to grab Cindy's arms, tugging her away from the spirits.

Strangely enough, they did not give chase.

* * *

"A hoard of spirits?" Berenice seemed puzzled, if not indifferent. "I see. I'm sorry. I thought it was a threat of much smaller significance. Perhaps I should reconsider my source of intel. Am I to assume that the rest of the club is alright?"

"Yeah" Max mumbled, but Cindy could still hear him. His phone was blaring on speaker phone, but the friendly voice on the other end, as much as Cindy disliked Miss Guillory, was a much needed comfort. Max reached up and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Yeah we're okay. Isabel and Ed haven't shown up yet."

"Please give me a call when that changes." They could hear Berenice shuffling on the other end, as if moving papers around. It was safe to assume she was still grading history papers, as Cindy swore she heard Berenice mutter "so stupid" under her breath. "It's odd. I assumed that the possible force behind Richard's death was of greater mind. I didn't even think it might've been because he was overwhelmed."

"Oh no," Isaac stood from where he'd splayed his body across the trunk of Ed's car. He was still trembling; Cindy saw it in the shaking finger he pointed down at Max's phone. She supposed he'd been the closest to death, being surrounded like he was. Even from outside the circle, it'd reminded her of something akin to a zombie horror movie. Only thing was, those spirits were probably worse. They all deserved their own horror games, each one frightening and appalling in their own vile way. "No, there is definitely a bigger brain behind all of this. Those things wouldn't chase us when we bolted. So, unless they somehow figured out how to cut the brakes in Ed's car, which I hope and pray isn't reality, they weren't there to kill us."

"They were a message." Cindy had come to a similar conclusion, but saying it still felt odd. Their lives might not have truly been in any danger, but it'd certainly felt like it. She raised a hand to her chest, where her heart was still thumping wildly against her ribcage.

Berenice was quiet for a moment, and they heard the shuffling papers come to an abrupt halt. Dead silence cut the line as their small group waited patiently for her response. She exhaled on the other line, and the papers began shifting again. "I'll have to look further into this. Somebody at the Consortium" Cindy and Max spared a panicked glance at Isaac, who seemed confused by their glances "has to know something."

Max's stare lingered on Isaac before falling back to his phone; Cindy noticed. "Right. Keep us posted."

"Have a safe night, kids- are you kids? Have a safe night."

The connection cut and Max slipped his phone back into his pocket with a sigh.

Isaac fell back against the trunk, one of his arms falling across his eyes. He mumbled some excuse about his head hurting, but she could see the redness of his cheeks.

* * *

Another thirty minutes had passed by the time Isabel and Ed returned from scouting their neck of the woods. Isabel had her cell in one hand and was gesturing to the car with another. Ed was nodding in response to whatever it was she was saying, reaching to the loop of his belt to get his keys. "Start the car" Cindy figured Isabel was saying "it's late and it's a school night. We should get home soon." When Isabel heard Max's ringtone feet away from her, she turned a startled eye to the threesome she'd left. Max was leaning against the trunk Isaac laid on and Cindy had found a nice spot of grass under the wheel of Ed's car, a place her legs wouldn't get too itchy. Her eyes met Ed's and the air had left her lungs before she knew it'd been shallow. Isabel wasn't quite as relieved.

"What are you guys doing here so soon?"

Ed gave Cindy a smile and a wave, walking over to the back of his car to mess with Isaac's hair before he got the chance to look. He reached down and took a blade of grass, running it along Isaac's forehead. It was slapped away by a blue hand, Isaac's aura flaring when his annoyed gaze met Ed's amused smile.

"Long story," Max rubbed the back of his neck.

Isabel approached cautiously, eyes grazing the cuts and bruises all over Max's exposed skin. It was with a gentle hand that she reached out to touch the deeper one, the one right below his shoulder, but he winced and pulled away from her. Isabel frowned and glanced Isaac up and down, then Cindy. "What the hell happened?"

"Well," Cindy huffed and glared up at Max. Isaac would have gotten a hefty scowl, too, but he couldn't exactly see her from where he was sitting. "To start off, we got lost because Max and Isaac wouldn't stop arguing."

"Isaac's fault. I was just being myself."

"Well maybe 'yourself' wasn't the thing to be in the middle of a mission?" Max pulled away from the trunk to meet Isaac' icy blue eyes, an eyebrow twitching. Isaac pressed his palms to the metal door below him and came to sit up, raking his hands through his hair to get rid of the leaves Ed had surely been placing strategically through his spikes. "Maybe it wasn't your fault that we got swamped with baddies, but it's completely your fault that it took us an hour to find our way back to the car, and totally your fault we got lost in the first place!"

"What, because you can't keep your eyes on the road?"

"Excuse me?"

Max crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, lips twitching into a sly grin. "Maybe if you would stop taking yourself so damn seriously, you could talk to me like a normal human being." Cindy watched with growing interest as Isaac's face lit into several different shades of red, his lips quivering as he struggled to compose himself. He leaped off the trunk of the car so that he was standing face-to-face with Max, bodies five feet apart. His expression spoke volumes, with his furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose, but his quavering voice gave away so much more.

"I'm sorry, when did I become the one who wasn't talking? I seem to remember that you're the one who's kept his mouth shut about us for two months!"

Ed cracked up and Cindy audibly gasped, a dirt-covered hand over her mouth. Isabel's jaw dropped and she looked around to see if anybody else heard what she just had. Max's face grew three shades darker than Isaac's, his arrogant grin falling like dead weights and his eyes widening above his barred teeth. A quick glance around the group verified that everyone had heard it, and from there his expression grew darker. "Isaac-!"

"Oh," the laugh that came from Isaac was a miserable as Max's grimace, and twice as hair-raising. "I'm sorry, you didn't want anyone to know, did you? Not like you told me that."

"Isaac, that's not it-!"

"Why don't you just go ahead and say it, then?" Isaac waved his arms around, motioning to the rest of the club. Max didn't seem to notice; his dim eyes were locked firmly on Isaac's flaming ones. "Just say that you regret it!"

"Isaac, shut up! I'm trying to tell you that I don't-!"

"Clearly you do! 'Cause everyone here seems surprised! And I know you haven't said a word about it to me!"

"Okay! Alright!" Max brought his hands up in mock defense, aura threatening to build higher than the top of his baseball cap. "You wanna hear me say it? Fine!" Isaac balled his fists and tensed up, as though getting ready for Max to land a physical blow. When it hit, Cindy knew it must have felt like one. Max didn't even take a deep breath before he said it. "I regret everything about that night! I wish it never happened! If I could do it over, I wouldn't do it again! The thought wouldn't even cross my mind!"

When the words finally lay thick on the air, and the reality of the situation caught up to everyone, Cindy noticed how deathly silent everything was. Isabel and Ed were stuck glancing between each-other and the argument, mouths so open mosquitoes were landing on their tongues. Her expression must not have been much different, because her mouth was quickly becoming dry. The wheels in Max's head seemed to be turning, as though he couldn't quite figure out exactly what he'd just said. Rather, he looked shocked the words had ever left him- that his own outburst could cut him so extremely. He was stuck in place, unmoving and unresponsive, teeth falling at a distance so that his own lips could part in bafflement. Isaac, though, Isaac looked the worst. His face was ghostly pale, skin so white Cindy would have thought him sick. His eyes were whitish, too, and wide as the moon above them, so big that there wasn't an inch of emotion for him to hide. His lower lids twitched, as though he was fighting rising tears- he certainly looked like he was.

In seconds, agony turned to rage, and his aura flared yards above his head like a wild bonfire they'd forgotten to mend. He balled both his fists and led one swinging into Max's face, sending him flying onto his back like he was nothing but thin glass. Cindy could see Max shattering between space and land, shock etched on his face. It happened in slow motion, Max falling backward and Isaac flew toward him. The result was a shockwave they couldn't feel, disbelief and dread and confusion mingling into something nobody there had felt in a long time.

Max landed against the grass and dirt with a thud. "Isaac!" Isabel's tone was a warning one, but Isaac didn't look like he had any hits left in him anyway. Where there was once rage and pain, there was enervation and detachment. It was there for all of them to see, and it was with bloodshot eyes that Isaac swallowed hard and spoke.

"It's official, then. You and I are done. I just wish you'd said something sooner instead of wasting both our time."

Isaac turned around and stalked off in the direction of the suburbs, body still trembling as his silhouette vanished under the shadows of trees and bushes. Cindy crawled over to Max just as Isabel bent down, both reaching helping hands to his arms. It was with no aggression that he brushed them off, body so limp he could hardly bring himself to stand. The tip of his cap might've covered his eyes, but it couldn't hide the way he gritted his teeth. Isabel offered a humorless laugh. "Wow, that was, uh, a confrontation. You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine." His voice was tougher than he was and they all knew it. "Let's just get home. Please."

The three of them watched without a word as Max carried himself to the back of the car, opened the door, climbed in, and shut it weakly behind him. They glanced at each-other, Cindy setting a shy hand on Isabel's shoulder. She wasn't sure if she was asking for comfort, but Isabel gripped her hand back anyway.

Ed blinked, glanced at them, then the car where Max was sitting, and then in the direction Isaac had staggered off to. "So…" His voice was unusually casual. "Five bucks says Max was the seme."

Isabel blanched, squinted at him, then sent a spectral fist as his arm. Ed snickered and rubbed his arm where it hit.


	9. Chapter 9

He didn't like it.

The audio he'd recorded felt forced, and every joke he'd squandered left him cringing away from his computer. What was supposed to be a simple venting video had become another thing to be anxious about. He sounded stupid, but then he sounded too serious; he joked around too much and then not enough. It was like his entire life was being summed up in one nerve-wracking video. How his ego hadn't been completely depleted by the end of the five minutes (blank screen- just him talking), he didn't know.

 _"Why don't you rant and post it on some form of social media?"_ Miss Baxter's voice echoed in his memory. _"I'm sure you'll find some good advice from somebody who's been in your shoes."_

 _That might've worked, you know, if I didn't have crippling self-esteem issues._

Ed groaned and shoved his head into his hands, elbows sliding slowly down the wood of his desk so that his forehead came to collide with the keyboard. How hard was it to ask a bunch of strangers for help? What was so hard about asking people he'd never met before what he should study to do for the rest of his life, forever and ever? Well, he scoffed to himself; he was just being grouchy now. He needed a distraction. He had to do something, keep his hands busy.

He turned his head to its side, paying the keys that stuck to his face little attention in his dispassion. His eyes came to sit upon his gaming console, where it laid unused since a month ago. He remembered the rush of grief that'd hit him as he'd last selected 'new game', how he'd left the dojo in the early morning and sat at the Balton's mansion until his cousin came home so he could worry her sick. _Like I've been doing to Izzy…_

He sighed and dug his face into the bend of his arm. He didn't mean to keep things from her. It wasn't like him. He hated worrying her and he hated leaving her in the dark, but this was one thing he couldn't go to her about. Him going to her to cry about losing Spender and about fearing for his own future- it would all sound ridiculous to her. Isabel knew who she was, what she was doing, who she loved and missed, and he was struggling to catch up. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to take his fears by the horns and use them to drive himself through the wall holding him back. He wanted to take Isabel by her hands and tell her that he really didn't care where he went during and after college, so long as it let him stay with her, but his guts hadn't grown like the rest of his body had. He was still a coward, gutless and terrified of getting stuck doing something he hated the rest of his life. He wanted nothing more than to drag his bed covers over his head and wake up when everything was gone and past, when he wasn't questioning where his life was going and whether or not the people he loved would be there taking the same road.

Spender was the first one to go- would he see his other friends leave, too?

Ed stretched when he stood up, arms above his head as the muscles strained and the bones in his back cracked. He'd just have to finish the video, post it, and see where it took him. He glanced from his console to his computer, and then to his camera placed conspicuously on top of his monitor. _I wonder…_

Maybe people would actually watch the video if there was something interesting to look at while he vented- like a video game?

* * *

It was late enough in the day that the blue of the sky was beginning to pale, but early enough that the sunset wasn't turning the horizon an array of oranges and pinks. Isabel swung her plastic grocery bags over her arm as she busied herself texting with the other hand. She'd been trying to get a hold of Max after his 'debacle' with Isaac, but (surprise, surprise) he still hadn't responded to any of her messages. Part of her understood, because they'd been friends for a long time before they became anything else, and the result was one of her worst fears, but it'd been a month. She was sick and tired of everyone she cared about hiding their emotions for god knows what reasons- first Ed, then Max, though she doubted Isaac would ever hide what he was feeling from anyone. He was like her in that respect- proud of feeling things, even more proud of using them. She and Isaac could never hide like Ed and Max were- like Spender used to.

She frowned and dropped her phone into one of the grocery bags, one she knew hadn't begun the process of defrosting on her long trek home.

It was funny, in a kind of pathetic way, how they all held onto Spender by collecting bits and pieces of his personality. Ed delivered jokes with a straight face, Isaac had become overconfident in his abilities, Max was making even worse jokes than usual, and she knew she'd taken on the leadership role when he'd gone. There was no telling how long those components of their personalities had been there, or how Spender had influenced those aspects to grow, but she knew it was because of him. She knew it was because he'd left an impact on them. She still wished she could ask him things; he probably would have known what to do about Ed, even if she'd have hid her budding gushy feelings about the idiot horribly. He might've even known how to help Max and Isaac through whatever it was they were going through. Thoughts like that made the stinging feeling behind her eyes come back, though it was easier to deal with nowadays. She'd heard that the feeling never goes away, that it only gets easier to handle it over time, and that was true so far.

Isabel hummed as she reached the front porch of the dojo, readjusting the bags over her arms that were starting to feel like tight ropes around her skin. She'd walk through the front door, be greeted by a precocious student or two, and wander into the kitchen to put everything away. She hoped the sounds of chips being stuffed into cabinets would summon Ed from the depths of his closed (and locked) bedroom, but that might've been too much to ask for. Things hadn't gotten any better with him and she'd tried everything. She'd tried leaving him alone and talking to him through the door and inviting him to hang out with her and some of the students, but the response was always the same.

"No thanks, Izzy- maybe later."

 _Later my ass. When he gets out of that room, I'm gonna knock him so hard in the stomach he'll be lucky to breathe again!_

Just as the thought crossed her mind, her foot went flying into something soft and firm at the top of the staircase leading up to the front door. Isabel yelped and swung her burdened arms around, trying desperately to regain her balance as her body swayed to and fro. She inhaled sharply and placed her hands on the door in front of her, suddenly thankful it didn't open unless she gripped the handle. Once she was bent into what could have only been described as a new yoga position, she could regain her balance and release the air that'd been stuck in her throat momentarily. Whatever was at her feet stayed put, and she slowly maneuvered her legs over so that she could stand up straight. "What the hell…?"

* * *

Ed grinned from ear-to-ear as he clicked the 'submit' button. With the visual assistance of his expert button-pressing and the script he'd jotted down beforehand, the new video he'd prepared left him feeling a million times more confident. Of course, he'd published it before he could second-guess himself, because he always did that and it was a horrible problem to have, but the video was officially off his checklist. With any luck, he'd receive some feedback, hopefully about his life but he didn't mind getting some help with editing.

"And with that, I'm gonna take a nap."

He said, to which the universe replied: no, no you are not.

There was a scream downstairs, and though Ed couldn't hear the words, he knew that voice better than the face in the mirror. Ed's heart skipped a beat, and he was up and out of his chair and out of his room in seconds. "Isabel!" A quick glance from behind the second-floor railing proved his ears right. Isabel was the one who'd screamed, but her expression was less terrified than it was stuck between panicked and enthusiastic. She struggled with something beyond the threshold of the door, wincing as she somehow managed to drag the mystery object and all of the apparent grocery bags on her arms into the training room.

He blinked and raced down the stairs, meeting her at the foot with wide eyes and an even wider mindset. She glanced up at him from where she was squatting on the floor, hair mangled and chocolate eyes startled. "Ed, I need you to call Zarei." With one final tug, Isabel grunted and made one last pull through the front doors. What Ed set his eyes on was a tuff of blonde hair, much like his own, and a white button-up shirt dirtied with mud and grass stains.

What he set his eyes on was one Richard Spender, who was unconscious but very obviously breathing.

He felt his jaw drop as his mind raced to catch up with what laid before him. Unsure of what to do with his hands, they grasped at the open air in sync with his opening and closing mouth. "Ed!" Isabel called out to him, one hand tugging frantically at Spender's limp body. "Go call Zarei! I've got this!"

She thought she would have been happy, relieved even, that Spender was alive. Hell, he wasn't just alive; there wasn't anything wrong with him! He wasn't a ghost, his blood pressure was good, his vitals checked out- she should have been overjoyed!

What Isabel felt, however, was merely disbelief- disbelief that he was alive and disbelief that he was going to be just fine. She'd spent months mourning his loss. She'd gone to his funeral and placed flowers on his grave. She'd seen her grandfather grieve for the first time in her life, and she might've bet the first time in his. She'd even gotten used to the idea of not having him around, as much as she'd hated it, and yet the man sat there sleeping in the dojo's infirmary like he'd just had a bad run-in with some overly-aggressive spirit. None of it seemed real, like she'd wake up in her empty bed with the moon hanging outside her window. The concept held no more pain, she found, because the sensible part of her recognized that Richard Spender was indeed there in the flesh. She was sitting there at his bedside, watching him breath in and out.

He was alive.

* * *

"I wondered if I'd ever see a wish of mine come true." Zarei walked into the room on light feet, as expected. She entered rooms without sound often, and maybe somebody else would have been surprised to hear her- Isabel was not. Zarei was slipping gloves off of her hands, mumbling to herself about how they were wasted because there was nothing bleeding, oozing, or contagious about Spender. "It's something little girls never grow out of, hoping their wishes will come true." Isabel glanced at her from the side, and then looked back at Spender. Once the gloves were disposed of in the nearest trash can, Zarei moved to the sink to wash her hands with the lemon-scented soap Isabel had just purchased. "I made a wish before his funeral. I pulled petals off one of the orchids and hoped that I'd see him again one day."

She turned the faucet off and grabbed a paper towel, staring down at her fingers like she was remembering every individual petal. Isabel knew well enough that might have been the case. Zarei snorted to hide the smile inching across her lips. "I thought that, if this one wish was granted, then I'd surely see his ghost. Fate always seems to mess with me in that way. All I can think is that someone else had the same wish, and fate just so happened to humor them. So tell me," she pulled up another chair beside Isabel, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap as her gaze fell over Spender's sleeping body. "When did you make your wish?"

"I didn't make one."

"That's not what I asked."

Isabel snorted, too, turning her head to the window above Spender's bed. Night had finally come, and there were stars where she'd seen a cloudy blue sky. "And I didn't answer."

Zarei chuckled. Isabel would have taken that as a silent white flag, but Zarei was far too observant- read her far too well. She watched as Spender's chest rose and fell with her heartbeat, all the more aware that he was the one on the verge of waking up. A quick sideways glance at Zarei verified that she wasn't the only one ready to pinch her own skin. There was a haze over her eyes that reflected the surreal sensation Isabel felt.

She coughed into her hand and stared into her lap. "I wanted to ask him for advice."

"About?"

Isabel swallowed. "The dojo- me running it." She crossed her arms and leaned further into her chair. "If I'm capable of it…"

"It's not something you need to worry about anymore, is it?"

They both fell silent, Zarei staring at Isabel's turned head and Isabel contemplating her next words.

It hadn't occurred to her just yet, that Spender's reappearance meant she didn't have to struggle with her options (or lack thereof). Grandpa Guerra would want Spender to take the dojo and any responsibility that'd been on her shoulders before was gone in a cloud of dazzling smoke.

"Though, in truth, I don't think you would have made a bad master. You are, after all, Richard's student."

Isabel glanced up from her lap, wide eyes meeting Zarei's grinning gaze. With that, Zarei stood and brushed her dress off, parting with little words aside from "call me when he wakes up".

* * *

Isaac and Max found their way into the infirmary around a half an hour later, and though they came together she could see they were keeping their distance. They didn't say a word to each-other, and she could count on one hand the number of times they looked in the other's general direction. Three feet remained between them at all times, and though that annoyed her as a friend, she was more preoccupied with her somehow-alive teacher and his new visitors.

"How is he?" Isaac was the first to say a word.

"He's great, actually. Apparently rising from the dead doesn't come with any of the drawbacks you'd expect- like rotting flesh."

"Gross- but I'm glad to hear it."

Max approached Spender's bedside cautiously, and Isabel knew he felt the same as she did- disbelief, joy, skepticism, optimism, all in one wave. He reached out a shaking hand, but stopped inches away from their teacher's face. He was nervous and she understood that. It still seemed like some type of cruel trick. "This is insane."

"You're not the one who tripped over his limp, unconscious body."

"No I was not. Must have been horrifying for you."

"Scarred for life." She snickered and he chuckled. She was quite proud of her delivery- stone face, played straight, all around one of her better moments. It was something Ed would have laughed at- Ed, who suspiciously was nowhere to be found. Isabel glanced to the door, expecting him to be leaning against the frame with his signature toothy grin and an out-of-place joke, but she only saw some of the younger students sneaking peeks at the older kids. She smiled at them and gestured for them to leave, because it was late and she knew her grandfather would have them up to train come the rise of the sun. The kids giggled and scurried away, having fulfilled their morbid curiosity. Isabel turned back to her friends, Max having tucked his hands in his pockets and Isaac seemingly entranced by the single hand he held on the railing of Spender's bed.

"Where's Ed?"

Max blinked and Isaac nodded to the door. "He went out for a while," Isaac shrugged "said he was going to see Cindy."

Isabel's heart leaped in her chest, and the feeling wasn't quite as pleasant as it had been earlier. That familiar green feeling crawled along her ribcage and threatened to choke her. She felt like a spoiled child who hadn't gotten what she wanted, like she had any word over Ed leaving just because she loved him. She supposed it was stupid, and petty, but the ugly emotion was still there. There was a trace of panic under her skin, even though she knew he was safe, and she had to wonder why. She wondered why he left, why he had to see Cindy in person and, more than anything, why he wasn't there with her. Isabel froze, nails scratching at her arms where she held herself tight because no one else would. "Wait, what? Why wouldn't he just call her?"

Isaac winced. "I don't know-!"

"Why wouldn't he tell me he was leaving?" Her voice must have sounded as doleful as she felt, because Max and Isaac looked at her with pity in their eyes. She could feel herself cracking, stone exterior breaking down under her bones. First Spender's death, then Ed putting distance between them, being put in charge of the dojo, and then Spender turning up alive and well after she'd buried an empty casket…

She brought her palm to her mouth and sobbed, burning tears and sweat sliding down her face and wetting the entire back of her hand. Strands of hair stuck to the sides of her head as she curled into herself, undignified and pitiful and she was wholly mortified but too exhausted to care. Her body shook with each exhale of hot air, shoulders trembling and stomach churning. God, she felt sick.

Arms draped in a blue sweater wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, the humid scent of rain and grass on her nose. Isaac smelled like summer, and so she was reminded of every three months between the school years past that she didn't have to worry about inheriting students or losing her loved ones to life's ever-looming consequence or falling out of sync with Ed. She buried her head into Isaac's shoulder and tugged at the front of his shirt. Another hand was at her back moments later, rubbing comforting circles into her tense muscles. No doubt Max was glancing away, tipping the front of his cap over his eyes so he wouldn't have to admit he was feeling some form of empathy.

* * *

Ed banged incessantly on the front doors of Balton Mansion, smile so wide he could hardly contain himself. He put the video up, Spender was alive- it was shaping up to be a pretty good day! When there was no answer, he knocked again and again and again, and he'd keep knocking until he got an answer.

Cindy came to the door in a long elderly-looking nightgown, pink silk tied loosely around her waist. She was rubbing a squinted eye, face pale and skin dark under her eyes. He realized she must have been tired, as it was eight o'clock at night, but the news was far too important. "Eddy?" She forced a smile when she recognized who it was. "What are you doing here so late?"

"It's a long story," he looked over her shoulder "can I come in?"

The Balton Mansion was huge, and Ed was used to living in a large home. The dojo was nothing to bat an eyelash at, either, but he still found himself in awe every time he stepped foot in the Balton's home. It wasn't right, feeling so out-of-place in the home of his own blood, and his aunt and uncle would be upset to find that he felt that way, but he was unsettled nevertheless. The feeling had lessened with every visit, especially the latest ones since they were all so close together, so he supposed that was a good thing.

Cindy followed his absent-minded path around one of their many living rooms, the same one, he noted, they'd been in the night Spender's loss had finally hit him. It seemed so stupid now that he was alive, like all of that grief was for nothing. It kind of was, he guessed. The fire wasn't cackling, and in its place was charred dead wood, but a fresh plate of cookies still sat at the coffee table.

"Do you want one?" Cindy noticed he'd been looking.

"No, not really." Cookies weren't important to him, not right now. "I've got something to tell you, and you might wanna sit down."

Cindy's brows furrowed, but she took a seat on the couch anyway, hands folded in her lap and head tilted to the side. Her green tired eyes were wide above her bags, and he reveled in knowing that he'd turn her frown on its side in only moments. Instead of taking a seat beside her on the couch, he came to kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in his own. She went red and he went jittery, as though he'd downed a gallon of coffee on his way over. He'd thought about it, but pure adrenaline was enough for him to get through the moment. "Okay, so listen. Isabel came back from the store a few hours ago…"

"Yeah?"

"… and she might have found someone sleeping on our front porch?"

"Eddy, if you're about to tell me she found an orphaned infant and you plan to raise it as your own, I'm going to go to bed."

"No, Cindy, listen- she found Spender." He felt her squeeze his hands. "He's alive- and he's okay!"

It took a few seconds, but he could see realization dawn on her face, furrowed brows rising as high as her hairline. "Oh my god, Eddy!" She gasped and pulled her hands away to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him forward and into the couch as much as she could without pulling his head clean off. "That's amazing! How is this possible?"

"We don't know! He hasn't woken up yet, but who cares? He's okay! He's home!"

Ed lifted Cindy off the couch and swung her around in a small circle, careful not to hit the coffee table, wrapping his arms around her waist and digging his head into her shoulder. They laughed together and swayed from side-to-side, and he knew that they must have radiated happiness levels off the charts. There was, after all, little else that could make a person cheerier than a lost loved one appearing miraculously on their doorstep. Ed felt like he was bursting at the seams with joy, like happiness was threatening to tear him apart and release into the wild to be dispersed among more deserving candidates.

He let Cindy's feet meet the ground again, first her toes and then the soles of her slippers.

He pulled away and rested his hands on her shoulders. Her smile was as wide as his was, and it reminded him again that he was standing in the Balton Mansion- not the dojo, not home.

Not where Isabel was.

"I've got to go."

"What, why? You just got here!"

"Yeah, but for all I know, Isabel's alone and Spender's unconscious." He squeezed her and he wasn't sure why. He could feel Isabel's head on his shoulder, imagine the smell of coconuts and ocean water- like the first time they'd kissed. He could hear her sigh and the chime of her voice, the joy in her smile when he made her laugh. She was at the dojo, alone with the teacher they'd both thought was gone for good, and he was somewhere else when she might've needed him the most.

He hadn't known exactly why he'd felt the sudden urge to go see Cindy. He thought it might've been because she'd become a safe zone of sorts for him, a person to run to when he just couldn't go to anyone else. But why- why was she the only person he could run to? Max was a pretty good listener and Isaac always had an ear open, so why was it Cindy?

 _Because she's family,_ he realized. _Cindy is the closest thing I have to a sibling- to my parents. Of course I came to her about this, she's my cousin._

But Isabel was family, too, although very different from the kind Cindy was. Isabel was his best friend and his partner in crime, and quite possibly his soulmate. There was nobody else who knew him better, who knew his buttons and his proudest moments and his favorite things- why wouldn't he let her know his doubts too? The entire situation seemed ridiculous to him, then. He'd been suffering in silence because he wanted to protect Isabel, but all he was doing was jeopardizing what they already had by becoming a different person when she wasn't looking. She deserved more than that and so did he.

A real man wouldn't hide his fears from the woman he loved, and he wouldn't either.

"As much as I've leaned on you these last few months," Ed frowned and turned his gaze to their feet. "I need to man up and start talking to Isabel. I've never told her, or anyone, this but…" he swallowed and Cindy inched closer "I love her."

Saying it out loud was rewarding in its own way. It was like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, as though it was a secret he'd intentionally been nursing and hiding for years. Slowly, his lips twisted into a grin that felt familiar on his face. "I love her. I love Isabel! If I want to be her man, if I want to stay by her side for the rest of my life, then I can't shut her out like this- even when it's easier to!" He could feel Cindy's hands fall timidly against his wrists, fingers grazing the skin as hot as a humid night. "I need to get home and I need to be there for her, because she'd be there for me if I let her, right?" It was a revelation long-time coming, but it felt even sweeter because of it.

He glanced up at Cindy's face for conformation, only to find tears streaming down her face. Ed paused, blinked, and suddenly white hot panic raced through him faster than he could blink. "Oh my god! Why are we crying? What's wrong? Cindy?"

She sniffled and shook her head from side to side. He tried to reach up and cup her face, wipe the tears away like a good friend would, but she swatted them away and threw herself into his arms. With cautious hands, he patted her back and tensed up when her hand clutched the cloth of his shirt tight enough to tear a hole in it. "Nothing's wrong" she croaked "just- promise me you'll make her happy, Eddy. Promise me."

Ed frowned and wrapped his arms around her, feeling her dig her head into his chest. Her tears were soaking his shirt clean through, but that just meant he'd switch shirts later. "Yeah," he murmured "of course I will. Always."


	10. Chapter 10

She was drifting somewhere between getting some well-earned sleep and reality when she felt a hand upon her head. Isabel woke to the kid-friendly patterns of the dojo's infirmary and the sound of crickets rising with the moon. She had no idea how long they'd been making their rounds, let alone what time it was. It must have been pretty late, though, because she wasn't feeling the eerie tension between Max and Isaac anymore. _They must have gone home_. She shivered at the cold air conditioning on her bare arms, reaching down to tug at the blanket thrown hastily over her shoulders before she even registered that it was there. She yawned and turned her head to the other side, trailing the forearm attached to the hand running tender fingers along her tangled hair. Through a blurred vision that she blinked away and a persistent tremble that pleaded for her to fall back asleep, Isabel could make out the foggy silhouette of a familiar figure sitting up in bed- the same bed she sat at the foot of.

In seconds she was out of the blanket and tossing her arms around Spender's neck, nuzzling her head into his shoulder with so much warmth and affection she hardly recognized his own arms wrapping around the small of her back. "Isabel…"

"You're awake- and alive! You're awake and alive!"

He chuckled in her ear and reached one hand up to pat her head. She couldn't see his face, but she guessed what he must have looked like- the friendly smile of a teacher, the furrowed brows of a concerned brother, and the twitch in his nose of surprise. "It appears I am, though I'm not sure how."

"It doesn't matter."

Isabel pulled away, albeit begrudgingly, and settled back down in her seat, scooching it as close as possible to where Spender was now sitting up. She bombarded him with the expected- if he wanted water or something to eat or more blankets, less blankets… the usual. He rejected all of it, though, still far too disillusioned to do much of anything but try desperately to grasp his surroundings. She called on the older students of the dojo, students who weren't supposed to be up but were anyway because they were watching videos on MayviewTube[B1] , to grab him the biggest cup of water they had. Once it was in his hands, Spender gulped it all down, yet not as urgently as she was anticipating. He said he still wasn't hungry, and in fact he felt a bit nauseous, so she didn't fight him on the subject of food.

"I'm not entirely sure how I'm still alive." He mumbled, fingers tracing the transparent lines of the cup he was holding. "I got a call from a fellow consortium agent-"

"- talking about a breach in the barrier. We know." Isabel leaned over the side of the bed, folding her arms on the sheets. "The same agent called me when you went missing. I mean, clearly it wasn't soon enough." She clutched the sheets of the bed between her rigid fingers. "I wish they'd acted as fast to save you as they did to replace you." Her voice was bitter, as bitter as she was, but she knew that wasn't fair. The agent that'd called her had been frantic, after all. For all she knew they were a rookie who just got put in a bad position; it wasn't necessarily their fault they'd lost their teacher. Spender paused and glanced away. She was certain he was trying to hide it from her- pain over being replaced so easily. She wondered if, after his full recovery, he'd return to work the same as he always had. She recognized it was less about a lack of loyalty on the Consortium's part and more about necessity, but she couldn't imagine that would make his pain any better when he was the one marked off as dead. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I collapsed mere seconds after getting out of my car." She watched him with weary eyes as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Need another glass of water?"

"That would be nice, actually."

Isabel nodded and stood up from her seat, gingerly, gently, taking the cup from his shaking hands and walking towards the door with it. "Zarei is in the next room. Go see her and get checked out. I'll fill this up in the meantime."

* * *

She could still hardly believe it, the familiar touch of his muscles under her careful hands. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd ever patched him up, but by god she thought it would have been the last. She could still recall the leap in her chest, the hope in her buoyant little heart when she'd pressed her flowers to his grave- the lingering sensation that told her he was still out there somewhere. She'd thought it because his grave had been empty, because she didn't have a pale face to say goodbye to, and yet he sat there in front of her with a sulking face.

It really was one of his more common expressions.

"How are you feeling?"

He would have shrugged, but she hissed at him when he moved his shoulders. Spender smiled, if only for a second. "Fine."

"Liar." She tightened her grips around his arms as she checked for broken or sprained limbs. He wasn't complaining about pain at the moment, so there wasn't any need to waste time on an X-ray, but she worried still. That always seemed to be the case, her worrying about him while he kept everything to himself. The older they'd gotten, the more they seemed to run in that same circle. She'd hoped him marrying would have taught him how to lean on another human being, but she was quickly learning to not be optimistic with him. It pained her, even after all these years, to have him try so hard to hide things from her, and she wondered if she'd ever grow numb to it. Being angry hadn't seemed to solve anything- not yet. Zarei sighed and let her hands loosen their death-like hold around his upper arms, letting her fingers slide down his skin ever-so like silk, just until the tips of her nails ran along the crease of his elbows. "Richard, if there's something wrong…"

He stood up abruptly, coldly, and muttered something about getting a change of clothes, and she watched him disappear around the corner with narrowed eyes.

* * *

"Hey, Mister Spender! Heard you were awake-!" Ed yelped as the soles of his shoes sent him sliding a little further than the doorway to his teacher's infirmary room. Perhaps he should have seen that coming, since the wooden floors of the dojo were always slippery- it was even worse in socks- but he recognized that he made a mistake and maybe crashing into the stack of Legos the elementary students left in the middle of the hallway was a punishment he deserved. When he made it back to the door, he had small plastic blocks falling off of his skin and out of the hood of his sweater. His breathing was labored and he was bent over with his hands on his knees, but he tried to speak anyway. "Okay… um, sorry" he inhaled and exhaled "welcome back to the world of the living!"

He tried to make it sound less sore than the situation really was, extending his arms to either side as though awaiting a bear hug he didn't have the energy to give. He was expecting to see Spender sitting there in his bed, eyes wide behind his glasses, which were probably somehow still intact. He was expecting to see him smile, maybe laugh, and tell Ed he's fine without a hug because he's too weak to stand, to which Ed would promptly cross the room and scoop the man into his arms.

What he saw was Isabel in a chair by an empty bed, head turned to look out at the moon and stars beyond the window. Her hands were clasped in her lap, patiently. The room's light was dimmed, almost as though she was intentionally sitting in the dark. Was she?

Ed coughed into his hand and approached her slowly, heart beating rapidly against his chest. He was, after all, alone in a dark room with her… with a bed… after he'd just made a promise to himself to love her like a brave man and not a coward. Ed shivered and shook his head. He was just freaking himself out. "Where's the patient?"

"He's asleep in one of the guest rooms." Isabel's voice was uncharacteristically quiet, maybe even uneasy. He frowned when she spoke again. "He's staying here for a while- until we can settle him into his old life again."

"Oh well," Ed forced a small smile, one he knew she couldn't see. "I'm glad to hear he's okay!"

Isabel didn't respond. She only adjusted her body in the seat, just enough that he couldn't see her face, enough that her back was turned on him at an angle. Worry consumed him, and he racked his imagination for what could have possibly happened in the time he was at Cindy's to elicit such a distance between the two of them. _You left her alone again, you idiot._ His conscious barked at him. _Of course she's upset! What are you, twelve?_

"Izzy," he inched closer to her, wincing and shaking his head clear of doubts before reaching out and placing a tender hand on her shoulder. "You should go to bed. Your cold might still come back-!"

"You're right." Isabel brushed his hand off of her shoulder with little less effort than one would swat at a bug. "See you tomorrow." The voice he'd thought distant before became cold and settled in the pit of his stomach where it twisted and churned his guts. He watched after her with wide eyes and noticeably empty hands, chastising himself over and over again.

* * *

He was sure he'd been staring at his phone for hours, now, Max's number in bright lights until his phone didn't register his movements and it faded. The first seven times should have clued him into the concept of doing something else, like sleeping or watching TV, but he clicked his phone back on and punched his password in for the twentieth- twenty first, now- time. Isaac was growing tired of his own indecision, but he just couldn't bring himself to make the call. His bedroom was getting darker by the minute, and that felt strangely familiar to him.

He'd punched Max; he'd actually, physically, laid his hands on him in a way other than lovingly or teasingly. Out of all of the people to break his vow of peace on, of all the people to lose control and hurt- it was Max. Max, who he wanted nothing more than to call and apologize and beg to give him a second chance. _Please, you think getting on your hands and knees will make this better?_ Isaac frowned and let his hands, and his phone, fall limply into his lap. He'd seen the way Max avoided eye-contact with him when they'd shown up at the dojo at the same time, the way he said nothing to anyone but Isabel, not even the dojo's students. That was his fault. He was the one who called their relationship, or lack thereof, off. He was the one who stormed home because he couldn't handle hearing another word out of Max's mouth when he knew it'd just break him even more. _Max was going to call it off, anyway_ he reminded himself. _You heard him say it- Max regrets being with you. It was only a matter of time before he called things off, then you'd be an even worse mess._

Isaac winced. Max had brought it upon himself. He was being a chicken and delaying the inevitable, delaying how he felt, and he'd been killing Isaac in the slowest most painful way possible. He needed to get rid of that injudicious hope that still rattled around in his chest, use it to push himself forward instead of moping around waiting for Max to call. The question was not of whether or not they'd get back together, but of whether or not they could stay friends. It was an ambitious wish, especially when Isaac was still seething with anger, but the possibility was there. It'd require some distance between the two of them, maybe an apology or two (on both sides- Isaac wasn't stupid), but there was a chance that he and Max could move on.

That was after Isaac raged and burned every ounce of desire he felt, of course, which could be done.

* * *

How many times had he traced that same spot, the spot Isaac had laid in when they woke up that morning? Max had lost count and track of time, curled up under his covers with his phone in one hand and his pillow over his head in the other. He laid on his side, willing away the urge to stand up and walk around. He'd just end up pacing back and forth- that's what he always did. He readjusted the pillow and winced when his sore cheek burned. It'd been a month since Isaac called it all off, a month since Isaac left him with a purple bruise on his face and a dagger in his chest. The color on his jaw had healed well, but the disgusting twisting sensation under his ribcage had grown even worse. It was every night he woke up longing for Isaac's touch- his voice, his kiss, his electricity- except ten times worse. Before, the only thing keeping him from dialing Isaac's number was fear. Now, when he needed Isaac the most, it was reality keeping his thumbs off the green button.

Max grunted and stuffed the pillow further over his face, like he was hiding from everything he was feeling, but it wasn't working. He scrolled through their most recent texts, trying to ignore the memory of Isabel's six-year-old message and how it'd really started it all. That single text, one meant to tease and torment, it'd started the ball rolling- the realization that he liked Isaac, their first kiss, the night Spender died, their blowout- it all happened because Isabel sent that one little message just to play with Isaac's emotions. He hardly even remembered it now, something about them being cute or something, but he still couldn't believe that fate had dealt him such a bogus love story. It'd rattled off all of these thoughts, moments, kisses, touches, and yet it'd ended in seconds. It was like somebody had told the story wrong- he and Isaac were supposed to end up together, supposed to be happy and cute and all of that other stupid rom-com shit- but he knew why he felt that way.

He was in denial.

Losing Isaac didn't feel real. The entire thing felt about as real as the strangest, craziest dream. It felt like he could just call Isaac and tell him all about it and they'd laugh together and joke about how ridiculous the idea of them falling apart was, like none of it had ever happened. He hated himself for it, especially when he never should have fallen for Isaac to begin with. Isaac was a dork, the dorkiest dork to ever walk the Earth. He was excitable and irritable and optimistic and kind and immature, certainly not someone Max thought was ever his type. Yet, there he was, torn up from his heavy head to his numb toes, over Isaac O'Connor and the touch of his electric skin. He could still feel it in his shoulders.

Max pulled his head out from under the pillow and set his head atop it, tugging the blankets over what it'd used to cover. He heard Zoey calling him to dinner, but he simply wasn't hungry. Once Max plopped his head into the bag of feathers, he eased the rest of his body onto his stomach. A familiar scent drifted up through the fabric and fell over Max like a curtain he didn't ask for- Isaac's cologne. How it still smelled like him after he'd washed the sheets ten times, he didn't know, but somehow rain and summer still washed up against him like he'd held a spoon under the faucet. As much as he knew he shouldn't have, he reveled in it. Max pulled on the other end of the pillow so that the space where Isaac's head had laid was flush against his nose, a small sad smile beginning in the corners of his lips.

He'd just have to hope he'd get over it soon.

He knew he wouldn't.

* * *

"I have to say, I'm surprised Master wants me to be the dojo's new leader!"

"You're certainly his first pick." Isabel smiled and leaned over the railings that kept her from falling over the porch of the dojo. It was midday and the students were yet to begin their training. With all of the excitement of the day previous, she wasn't too surprised Grandpa Guerra was allowing them to sleep in. She herself was glad it was a Saturday, not that senior year classes were all that challenging. "Are you gonna take the job?"

"I'm not sure yet," Spender tittered and scratched his cheek, turning his gaze somewhere to the side. If she had to take a guess, she would say he was watching the field of blooming flowers somewhere just beyond the hills they lived in. She couldn't see much, but there were just a few monkshood petals peeking over the horizon. "I'll have to think about it for a little while." Isabel understood, but she knew him well enough to know he'd take the job. He respected Master Guerra more than she'd known him to respect anyone, and it wasn't as though he didn't find reward in instruction- he was, after all, a middle school history teacher, and that was one of the worst things to be. "But enough about my troubles, as I'm sure they've only just begun." He laughed and looked over at her. "I noticed Ed left earlier this morning?"

Isabel's eyes widened, and he chuckled at her. "What about it?"

"Well, you didn't go with him. Is there something troubling you?" She got the distinct feeling her reaction was to pout, because his eyes narrowed behind his glasses and he got that shit-eating grin on his face that she hated so much. It reminded her that she'd missed him. "You can't hide from me, Isabel! I am, after all," he fixed his glasses "your wise senior!"

"If that's what you wanna call it."

Spender fudged around with his tie, trying to hide how he was sweating, no doubt. Isabel sighed and leaned further over the railing. With the loss of Spender and the impending fate of her future no longer hanging over her head, it seemed that everything was reminding her of her less-than platonic sentiments. Usually, she would have been glad to feel something so remarkable constantly (it was a rush of her heart, nonstop warmth in her lungs, giddiness she couldn't shake), but reality was a very important factor and she couldn't ignore it.

Ed was cutting her out, hiding from her, not letting her help him. Sure, maybe he wasn't going to be grieving over Spender anymore, but what would happen the next time he needed help? _He'll go running back to Cindy._ Isabel groaned and let her head fall into her cupped hands. Figuring out how Ed made her feel was like walking into a field of roses only to get stuck by all of their thorns at once. She was sure it looked tragically beautiful from a distance, but that wasn't exactly a comfort. _If there was love there once, it very well may bloom again._ When she heard the phrase in her mind, it was mocking her. Or maybe she was mocking it? She certainly felt bitter towards the words, if not downright cross. Ed might have been an oddball, especially when they were younger, but she didn't want to believe he'd stoop to a relationship with Cindy knowing what he knew. She cringed at the thought. Wasn't she the better choice? Was there a reason he was trying to rekindle a blatantly disastrous relationship? "I love him and I'm pretty sure he's got his eye on someone else."

Spender sputtered beside her, probably not expecting that exact development. He'd been shocked when she told him about Isaac and Max hooking up, and they'd all seen that one coming. Her falling in love with her best friend probably wasn't something he'd anticipated, much less knew how to advise her on. "O-Oh, I see…"

They fell into mutual silence- Isabel, because she didn't have much else to say, and Spender probably unsure of how to respond. The sun beat down on the green grass of the dojo's yard, wind brushing against each strand and caressing the patches of green as though winter hadn't killed it all three months ago. The air was still a little bitter and cold and Isabel reached up to rub her arms and keep herself warm. She wondered if Ed would take care of her again if her cold came back, but immediately shook the thought away. She was desperate, but not that desperate- not yet. She hoped she'd never be. She could still feel the warmth of his fur jacket over her shoulders, the warmth of his hands at her waist…

"Don't trust anyone but yourself."

For a moment she almost didn't believe he'd said it. It just seemed so out-of-character for him, but a quick glance proved that he was less than jesting, a stone cold expression she'd never seen on him before. His brows were furrowed dangerously and his hands were in fists by his sides, lips thin and eyes narrowed. Isabel parted her lips to say something, but couldn't find the words. She vaguely wondered what happened to him over the past three months. While she was in school or in her room with a big bowl of chicken soup, mourning his loss, was he suffering something far worse? "Mister Spender…"

"I sincerely hope I'm not interrupting?"

Heels clacked against the steps leading up to the dojo's front doors, a low feminine voice so cautious it was hard for Isabel to get mad at the interruption. Berenice stood there the same as the day she'd showed up, braided hair tied together with a dull yellow band, orange purse in her twitching fingers. A less mature person might have been swaying on the soles of their shoes, but Isabel caught only a slight shift from side-to-side. "Miss Guillory! Mister Spender, this is-!"

"We've met before," Spender smiled and reached out a hand. Berenice took it with a nervous smile and a coy squint of her eyes. "Berenice…"

"Richard…"

Isabel glanced between the two of them, brow rose as she tried to figure out what to do with her own hands. The interaction between the two seemed nearly intimate, their eyes locked for three seconds longer than was customary between two professionals. Spender only pulled back when Berenice did, their fingers gliding slowly, almost sensually, to part. "Pleasure to meet you again."

"The pleasure's all mine."

Isabel blinked and the tension between the two was gone. _What the fu-?_

"You were my replacement, I take it?"

"Confirmatory." Berenice's smile was less nervous than it had been before. She stood taller, almost. It suddenly felt like she was standing towers over Isabel's head. "And now that your status has been revoked, it is time that I return to the Consortium for further instruction. I cannot continue living your life, after all."

"No, I suppose you can't." Spender tilted his head to the side and nodded to the path where Berenice's car sat parked under the shadow of the bridge. "May I walk you back to your car?"

"Of course." Spender offered his arm and she took it willingly, turning her head over her shoulder to glance back at Isabel. "It was nice meeting you, Isabel. Please inform the remaining members of the activity club of my departure."

All Isabel could do was nod wordlessly as their retreating forms neared the car parked in the shade, which Isabel could now see was a dull shade of yellow. "Oh my god." Her arms fell from the railings, limp at her sides. "Was that his wife?"


	11. Chapter 11

"I just don't know, man." Ed ran a sweaty hand through his hair, grimacing at the feel of his wet palm against his bare forehead. The bowling alley felt awfully warm for a simple spring day. Winter was over a month ago, so there was little excuse aside from their air-conditioner being broken. That wasn't, he reminded himself, wildly out of the question. The bowling alley was an awfully cheap one, if the inexpensive payment per game and the dust on the seats was any indication. "Isabel won't even talk to me! How do I apologize if I can't get a word out?"

Isaac stepped up to the line, a black bowling ball in both his hands. It wasn't often that they played together, but Isaac needed to get out of the house and Ed was starting to empathize. Fighting with Isabel made the entire dojo feel like an unstable battleground. Students ducked to get out of her way when she walked and shot him eyes that spoke of anything from sympathy to irritation. If he was a paranoid man, and he was, he'd think the entire dojo knew what he'd done and he didn't. He'd fallen into the trap of believing Isabel was just exhausted the night before, that she'd brushed him off because she was cranky. Come sunrise, however, she'd said a word or two at most to him, aside from "good morning". That, he thought, was a sure sign of an impending one-sided war. He was a general striving to go down in history and Isabel was the titanium fortress he had to break through, the kind he lost good men tearing down. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't sure where to begin. "She's gonna kill me, man! I'm gonna die!"

"Stop being such a drama queen." Isaac bent over and took the shot with an aggression unfit for the bowling alley floor, watching as his ball carried down the aisle with enough force to knock down half the pins before him. He muttered "yes" and fist-pumped. "Isabel is your best friend. Get her alone. Have a serious conversation with her."

"But how? I don't even know what I did!" Well, he kind of did know, but he wasn't sure of it. Isabel Guerra was a complicated woman who got mad for a small list of equally-vague reasons. The older they'd gotten, the more difficult it was to discern exactly what Isabel was mad at him about. Just when he thought he knew what he'd done wrong and he had an idea how to fix it, she'd yank the rug out from under him and he'd be forced to start all over again. The best way out of it was to just apologize immediately for whatever it was that he'd done and ask her to explain so he wouldn't do it again. Usually, though, she was willing to listen to his apologies. She wasn't doing that this time. It unnerved him. First he'd thought she was just upset about him leaving her there alone, which was fair, but usually that meant she was going to ignore him and cut him out until he finally broke and came to her on his hands and knees, begging for her sweet forgiveness. Isabel wasn't just being unsociable; she was being outright emotionless, like her mood had been chilling in the freezer overnight, so it might not have been that. Then, like an idiot, he'd thought that maybe she was just upset that he wasn't coming to her. The problem there was that, if she was going to get mad at him about that, she sure as hell would have done it sooner than three months in.

"Did you grow romantically intimate with her only to become physically and emotionally detached with no conversation or warning?"

"Uhh, no?"

"Then sorry, I can't help you."

"Is that…" Ed rubbed the back of his head, suddenly feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. "What's going on with you and Max?"

"Who's Max? I don't know a Max." Isaac took another swing with his black bowling ball, knocking down the remaining pins sadistically and swiftly. "Strike!" flashed across the screen above them in bold, bright rainbows. Ed blinked and opened his mouth, only to swallow whatever it was he was going to say. Whatever was going on there, he was not getting in the middle of it.

"Move over." He stood up and reached for his own bowling ball, a lime green one that he'd brought from home. "Let the master show you how it's done."

* * *

He was in the living room for the first time in days, curled up on the couch with the blankets from his bedroom over his shoulders. He was shivering, but that was probably just because he'd chosen to sit under the air conditioner. Max thought he must have looked sick. _You are sick,_ the smartass half of his brain chided. _You're lovesick._

 _If I ever have to think that again, I will take a knife to my own ears so I can't hear the sound of myself screaming._

"Wow, it's alive."

He murmured something along the lines of 'shut up', but it came out as, well, murmurs. Zoey plopped down beside him on the couch, hands folded over her stomach. Her hair swung above her shoulders in the braid she'd neatly tied. It made her look even younger than she was, and he'd tried to tell her that, but Zoey retained that it was the easiest thing to do in the morning. Her company did little to distract him, not when the action movie he'd half-heartedly rented was straying into 'romantic' territory. The beautiful woman- a strong-headed gun-slinging bombshell- he'd gotten to know very well aesthetically was being held out of a sky-rise window by her throat, struggling to swing back and forth. Max thought she might have been trying to wrap her legs around her attacker's- pull him over the ledge with her- but it didn't appear that she'd ever get the chance. With a lick of his creepy pale lips, the villain dropped the woman to her death, sending her soaring down what looked like hundreds of flights. Of course, as fate would have it, the protagonist caught her just in the nick of time, one hand on an implausibly long rope, a strong arm around her midriff, and a cocky smile on his face. "Easy there, Angel." Max mouthed the words he knew were coming. "Can't have you falling from heaven twice."

"You're very funny. Put me down."

She said that, but she was using one of her slender arms to wrap around the protagonist's neck, pursing her lips and shutting her eyes. It came sooner than Max expected, the flashes where he could see Isaac in his arms as they straddled a rope thousands of feet from the ground, lips pressed together so sweetly he lost his own breath at the thought. The dream came with memories- Isaac laughing into the nape of his neck, placing kisses to Isaac's ear as he slept, holding him close enough that their cold noses pressed to each-others… He was starting to figure out why girls watched romantic comedies.

A hand reached for the remote and paused the movie before Max had a say. "Okay, you are a sloppy, horrible mess of a human being and have been for a month now," Zoey sat up straight on the couch, reaching out and cupping his face in her smaller hands. She made him look at her, and he swallowed hard at the rush of shame that came over him. Not only had he managed to drive Isaac out of his life, but he'd worried his own sister sick. God, he didn't even wanna know what his dad must have thought. "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or do I have to blackmail it outta' ya?"

Max readjusted the blanket so he could see her better, eyes narrowing. "You're bluffing. You've got nothing." He'd hoped to catch her in a lie, stop her before she even got started on that foot, but she only smiled at him like a cat with a bird in its mouth, still kicking and fighting to live. Her hands fell to his shoulders.

"Nothing but three week's worth of angsty photos o' you making out with your pillow in your sleep."

Max opened his mouth, shut it, decided it wasn't worth it if she wasn't lying, and slid down in his seat.

"Fine."

The words came tumbling from his lips faster than he could have explained the phenomenon. Every tug at his chest, every ounce of pain he'd had bottled up for close to two months- it all came tumbling into one gargantuan passage of an outburst. He told her about how he and Isaac went a little further than they should have. He told her about how he'd been agonizingly, painfully infatuated with Isaac for a neat portion of his life. He told her about the weight he'd been carrying, the weight that told him he'd ruined what he and Isaac might've had over impermanent grief. He was surprised Zoey was still sitting there, listening tolerantly, by the time he was done. She was nodding and switching positions in her seat to be more comfortable while he vented all of his emotions, asking a question or two when she needed the information and cutting him off when he got- cough- a little too descriptive. Before long his tirades slackened to spur-of-the-moment grievances, and the weight in his chest was a little lighter. "So… what do you think?"

Zoey blinked, raised an eyebrow, and stared at him incredulously. "Wait, that's it? Max, you can't be serious. You're smarter than this."

"If this is about Isaac and I-!"

"No, it's not, because believe me, I'd rather I never have to think about you two doin' stuff again." Zoey shivered and rubbed either of her temples, massaging away her trauma-induced headache. "I'm saying that the solution here is obvious. Tell him. Explain what you're feeling, the how's and why's of your side of the story, and let him know you're not ashamed to be with him. There's nothing better to do in this situation than prove he's been on your mind."

Max sat there staring at her for what felt like a millennia before coming to the realization that, yes, his little sister had more common sense than he did and, yes, the solution to his problem really was that simple. He was leaping off the couch, tossing his blankets down- onto Zoey, actually- and racing to his bedroom to get dressed. He slammed his door with a little more force than he intended, but it wasn't like he'd knocked anything down. "Thanks, sis! I owe you one!"

Zoey hurriedly took the blanket in her hands and stared down at it, corners of her lips curling up and down, nose scrunching. "I hope you washed this!"

Max paused on the other side of his bedroom door, midway through tugging off his pajama shirt. With a snicker and a grin, he opened the door just a smidge and said: "Nope!"

He could hear Zoey shriek in revulsion and see the blankets go flying across the room and over the TV.

* * *

"I still don't see why you're leaving Mayview, considering you just woke up a day ago" Isabel could feel the irritation dripping off of her own tongue, hear it in her own cutting voice "but if you have to, I guess."

Spender smiled and wrapped his arms around Isabel, pulling her into his chest and running a hand through her hair like he'd done when he woke. Usually it would have calmed her, but there was something eerie to the situation, something she couldn't quite place. It was a feeling in her gut, her instincts warning her about clouds she couldn't see. She set her chin on his shoulder and stared at the monkshood flowers over the hill. "I won't be gone for long, Isabel. I just have to see the Consortium in person. It's imperative that they know I'm operational outside of my own mind. They might assume I'm in a coma, otherwise."

"Just tell them you're not, then!" He chuckled and pulled away, patting her on the head. It would have been comforting if it didn't feel so damn condescending. He insisted on leaving right at that very moment, at a quarter to four, for no reason other than "he just had to". She tried to suggest calling the rest of the club to the dojo to see him off, but he'd dodged her propositions left and right. Something was definitely still very off with him, and she wasn't sure what, per usual. She guessed she shouldn't have been surprised. Everybody was doing it lately, keeping their problems to themselves. Where there'd been anger before, there was only exasperation. She'd grown used to it- that sucked.

"Tell the others about my departure." Not that he said goodbye? Not that he'd be back soon? He patted her tense shoulders and trudged down the front porch steps to where his rental car sat. It was in her grandfather's name because Spender was technically still a 'dead' man walking, but that definitely wasn't what was bothering her. When he opened the car door, when he climbed in- there was something so unusual about him. Even when he'd held her, there was a distance between them that she couldn't close. Sure, she knew he was a man of many secrets, some she'd never find, but it had never felt so real and tangible- like she could touch the wall between them with her bare hands. Spender waved at her from behind the door's window, and she nodded back with her fists clenched.

Ed turned out of the tunnel just as Spender was headed in, eyebrows raised in surprise as he scarcely avoided a brush with the headlights of Spender's departing mobile. "What the-? Was that Mister Spender? Where's he going?"

Isabel stepped away from the stairs as he climbed them, reaching her hands into the pockets of her jeans so she wouldn't look ridiculous fiddling with them. She berated herself for reacting so distantly, for pushing him away like she was when the issue was of her stupid emotions. Even if Ed had hidden from her, even if he'd found solace with someone else- he was allowed to do that. He was allowed to go to other people for help- especially from his lover, as much as she detested calling Cindy that. "Izzy?" Ed called for her attention, but she kept her gaze somewhere on the monkshood flowers. "Where is he going?"

"A trip."

She couldn't see his face, but she felt his aura growing. It was hot like her frustration and wild like him, flaring for her to see while he felt every inch of those green waves. He reached one hand for her shoulder so she sidestepped it, eager to get into the house. She needed to go to her room- clear her head, read a book she already knew the ending to, just for some semblance of normalcy. He'd leave her alone when she got through the doors. All she needed was to take four easy steps and the conversation would be over.

When she moved to dodge one of his hands, they both grabbed her by the shoulders and tugged her closer. His natural scent, woods in the spring and spice- she took it in as much as she could, because that's as close as she could get to him, and turned her gaze to his chest. Their proximity was intoxicating in the greatest and wickedest way possible, and his hands were like sparklers on her bare skin. While his grip was assertive, he was gentle with her like he always was. His thumbs fondly massaged her where he held her, and somehow he managed to pull her even closer. "Isabel," not Izzy, she noticed. "Please, tell me what's wrong. If I don't know what I did I can't fix it."

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him all about how she wanted nothing more than to hear him vent to her, hold him around his neck and feel his hands at her waist, kiss him until neither of them could breath- but she couldn't. The pain in her chest was killing her, threatening to devour her throat the way it had her chest. If she told him she didn't want him to see Cindy anymore, he'd know- he'd know and things would become even more awkward between the two of them. He'd know and he'd drift even further away from her and she just couldn't handle that. "I don't need to tell you anything! It's not like you've been confiding in me!" Her words were laced with venom, poison she hoped nipped and bit at Ed the way his distance had been piercing her. Her fists clenched in her pockets again, tight enough to turn her tan skin pale. "I'm not going to sit here and let you manhandle me like a child! Let go of me- this conversation is over!"

"Isabel." She froze at the austerity of his voice. "Look at me." She didn't comply at first, turning her eyes to either side of their small personal bubble just to feel the satisfaction of denying him. She was angry, but she missed him; she was raging, but she loved him. She took a deep breath and turned her head up to meet his gaze with as much boldness as she could manage.

Isabel found herself instantaneously winded, like a snap of her fingers or a wisp of air. He had that dangerous look to him again, the one that made her legs jelly and her resolve putty in her hands. His lips were thin and his brows were furrowed, eyes narrowing at her with an intensity she'd never seen in him before. His aura hadn't grown, but it still whisked around him like a beacon for her to find. "Izzy…"

Her hands were at his chest, then, and it might have been because she wanted to push him away, but he only pulled her closer. His breath was on her lips and she hardly remembered how to breathe. She found the will anyway, venom of pure determination. "It's stupid!" It really was. She was being unreasonable. The struggle in her mind was by no means worth the level of distress she saw in him, the fear and the pain and the desperation.

"I don't care." He tilted his head to the side, and she instinctually grasped his shirt between her fingers, narrowing her eyes as she lifted her head away from his so her air was her own again. "If it's bothering you, if I did something to hurt you, I need to hear it." He followed her and pressed his forehead to hers, squeezing her arms in his heated hands. She exhaled and closed her eyes, biting down on her lip to keep from speaking without thought, something she felt herself desperately close to doing.

"Ed-!" She could feel his nose on hers, and she edged her eyes open to stare back at him. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and scare him the way he'd been scaring her. She wanted to bang her fists at his chest and call him a hypocrite, say trust was a two-way street. It was just that every word she thought of, every word of every speech she'd recited in her head a million times for whenever he came out of his room- it all disappeared. Disdainfully, she was reminded that that's how it always went. Ed inched closer, close enough that his lips were in centimeters of her own. The hands at her shoulders fell to the crease of her arms. She shut her eyes as he leaned forward.

There was a cough, weak but sudden enough that she and Ed pulled back from each-other entirely, faces red and fingers twitching because the warmth that'd been there before was gone. Isabel cleared her own throat and glanced up. "Um, yes?" The man, more like a boy, standing before them was dressed in the Consortium onesie, looking uneasy and embarrassed, considering the situation. Isabel placed him around his early twenties, and that was being generous. He looked like a sixteen-year-old. The agent coughed into his hand again and stood up straighter, shoulders back and chin up.

"Sorry about interrupting" he gestured to her and Ed "whatever that was, but um, I was hoping you could point me in the direction of Richard Spender? I was sent to check up on him. He's been dead air for a little over three months now."

"Well, yeah." Isabel set her hands at her hips. "We thought he was actually literally dead? I mean, he's not so…"

"Wait, what?" The agent seemed to leap about three feet in his own skin, eyes wide and horrified. "Why wasn't the Consortium informed of this?"

"What? How could you not be? He was on a mission closing a breach in the barrier you guys informed him of!"

"Well maybe," Ed snickered "just maybe you guys aren't that great at communication?"

"You guys even sent a replacement for him!" Isabel snorted but the agent appeared less than amused, a scowl growing on his face as his deep blue aura swayed well above his skin. He was trying so hard to be tough- to be professional- but he sounded and held himself like a disconcerted preteen out of the house on his own for the first time. It wasn't just in the crack of his voice; it was in the words he chose. Isabel would have laughed, but cracking wise at an agent of the organization she would be a part of one day probably wouldn't bode too well for her.

"We did no such thing! I hate to enlighten you misinformed progenies," she tried not to point out the irony of that comment "but the Consortium had no idea there was a breach of any kind, and we certainly weren't aware of Richard Spender's death! I demand further explanation! If I go back to my directors with a tall-tale like that, I'll be demoted!"

Ed blinked and Isabel opened her mouth to retort, but a repulsive feeling clawed at her chest and she stopped to think. Isabel found Ed's gaze slowly, the way panic sets in. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and it was with great unease that she slipped it into her hand and held it to her ear. She didn't need to check to see who it was; if the consortium agent was there, that meant he came into town on the train. If he'd been on the train…

"Zarei? Yeah, I know. Get to the dojo." She turned on her heel and pushed through the heavy front doors, strutting into the training room with little more than a gesture to Ed and the agent to follow her. "We need to talk strategy."


	12. Chapter 12

When Isaac came home at around two in the afternoon, exhausted from a three-hour long bowling rivalry with Ed, he was expecting to lie down for a little while. In his mind, he was already flat on his covers, playing some random game on his phone with an anime he'd already watched and finished a million times playing in the background. He might've fallen asleep without the covers on and woken up, shivering but rested. He might've gotten up to grab some fruit, an apple usually, but it truly lived up to its name as the forbidden fruit- because, upon finding Max sitting on the stairs up to his front porch, there was no way the evening was gonna go as he'd planned.

Isaac's feet stopped before his mind registered the look on Max's face, possibly his body's way of telling him: "Proceed with caution." His heart and his stomach flipped so high and low that it felt like they switched places, and his shoulders hitched just below his ears until he exhaled and let all of the freezing air in his lungs fly through his teeth. He tried to remember; he'd been through this already. He'd scoured his emotions and he was ready to try and move on- nothing Max came all the way to his door to say was going to take his resolve and break it.

If Max hadn't seen him before, he certainly had once Isaac passed him to unlock the front door.

"Isaac-!"

His fingers brushed the metal of his keys and the plastic of the mini photo frame locked to the chain, but that was as far as he got before Max had grabbed him by the arms. Isaac started to struggle the moment their skin made contact, shrugging his arms up and down and twisting away in a vain attempt to slip out of Max's grasp. He barred his teeth and gave Max his best scowl, leaving his body tense to the touch. Max sneered back at him from under the shadow of his cap, eyes narrowed sharply and lips curled. "Isaac, would you give me a goddamn minute?"

"What, Max? What could you possibly want?"

Isaac stopped fighting, if only for a moment, to hear what Max had to say. He shouldn't have been, but he was hopeful. Some part of him, perhaps a piece of childhood innocence that still lingered somewhere in some suppressed part of his mind, expected Max to say he didn't mean what he said. It expected Max to tear up and tell him he was just so in love with him, and that the reason he'd been so distant and quiet about them before was because he was trying to find the best way to- oh, he didn't know- pop the question or something equally ridiculous. That twisted little traitorous part of him believed- just for a second- that he'd been wrong before, that Max was there to sweep him off his feet. Little fantasies that had come to feel so distant as of late came swarming back in waves. The Max in his mind wanted him back, wanted to take his arms and laugh for hours like they used to; the Max he knew didn't exist had stepped up his front porch stairs and bent down on a subservient knee, spouting sappy, sugary, disgusting words because- at the end of the day- Isaac knew that's all it would take to win him over.

Isaac squashed it right when it started. Whatever light was lingering in his chest, it was gone because he snuffed it himself. He wasn't a kid anymore, and he and Max were in a very adult situation. Dropping his perception for the sake of optimism he knew, without a doubt, would be taken and ripped apart right in front of him- it wasn't something he would let himself do again.

Max looked at him for a moment, saying nothing even though his lips were parted. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head at his feet and met Isaac's fuming gaze with a resolute one. "Before you say anything, I know. I know I haven't explained myself. I'm here to change that." Isaac clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and his teeth, turning his head to look away. Max pulled him closer, squeezing the shoulder closest to Isaac's turned chin and tugging on it. "Look, I can't stand snubbing my best friend like this, alright?"

Isaac blinked, furrowed his brows, and then blinked again. His stomach did flips, but not like they usually did around Max. No, the flips he was feeling were more familiar, not that of romantic love- but of the adoration he felt for Max before romance was even a question on the board. It was what he felt the first time Max said "I need you", the first time Max held him by the shoulders and told him "I'll trust you enough for the both of us". He gave no direction to his body, but he relaxed in Max's hands.

"Best friend?"

"Aren't we?"

Isaac smiled at him then, and, though he hid it well, Max smiled right back. He took a deep breath and let his hands slide from Isaac's shoulders to the crease of his arm, where he squeezed the muscle and ran a tender thumb along the line before the forearm. "I need to be perfectly honest with you here, so do me a favor and just listen." Isaac nodded, but something squeezed in his chest tight enough to choke him. It was anticipation, the excitement of hearing what Max had to say. Curiosity. Max's eyes stayed glued to his, and Isaac would have been blind to not see the ardor burning there. "I haven't stopped thinking about you. Believe me, I've tried and I just can't. Everything in my room reminds me of you now! I can't even go to sleep- my freaking pillow smells like you!" Isaac hoped his cheeks weren't as pink as they felt hot. He would have expected some sort of fear from Max, some sign of apprehension or gawkiness, but all he saw was purpose and assurance. There was a confidence in Max he hadn't seen before, or maybe it was something that hadn't been there? Either way, Max squeezed him tight and continued on. "You are the one person I can't afford to lose, so do us both a favor and don't make that happen."

Hearing that must have made his world complete, because Isaac felt a whirlwind of emotion and energy just pumping into each beat of his veins, riding through him as fast as lightning in his hand. For a moment, Isaac felt electricity he hadn't conjured spark up and down his body, hair standing where Max's hands ran along his skin.

He shivered to think what a kiss could do at that instant in time.

"Max" Isaac swallowed hard and turned his eyes to his feet. "As happy as I am to hear that-!"

Max tensed. "That sounds like a negative..."

Isaac exhaled through his teeth and shut his eyes. "Max, we can't do this. If you're going to have regrets every time we get close," he shrugged, gesturing vaguely to the past behind them "like we did, then it's better we stay friends."

Max dropped one of Isaac's arms, raising his hand defensively. "Wait, Isaac listen-!"

At perhaps the most inopportune moment, the worst case of it Isaac personally had fallen victim of, his cell phone started ringing. Loud, proud, anime opening music instrumentals pounded against the speakers in Isaac's back pocket, and he didn't groan but he could feel it in his chest. He looked at Max, who turned his eyes from Isaac's ringing pocket to his face. He looked worn-out, irritated and stressed even, but there wasn't a lot to be done. "I should get that."

Reluctantly, Max let his hand slide down the length of Isaac's arm, fingers brushing generously against the backs of Isaac's own. Isaac shivered again and picked his phone out of his pocket.

Isabel's name and number flashed on the screen, a small picture of her in a Santa Clause costume (full beard, belly, etc…) twitching back and forth on his screen. He frowned and pinched the back of Max's hand. It grabbed his wide-eyed attention, like Isaac was expecting it to, and he gave Max a small reassuring smile. "We'll finish this later." As Isaac pulled the phone to his ear, Max raised an eyebrow and turned his endearing pout to the street behind them.

"What's up?"

"I need you two to get down to the dojo- and hurry."

* * *

"Wait, so…" Max formed a small black heart with his aura, tracing over its curves and lines with his finger. "Mister Spender, who's married and awkward and a ball of nervous energy ninety-nine percent of the time, was making heart eyes at Miss Guillory- a woman we've known all of three months and never heard him mention before, but he apparently knows her?"

By the time Max and Isaac had knocked on the heavy doors of the dojo, the training room was packed with their closest confidants, ranging from a very perturbed-looking Doctor Zarei to a complete and total stranger in a suitsie onesie, who somehow looked even more agitated than Zarei- and that was special. Cindy and Zarei stood side-by-side, leaning against the wall near the open infirmary door. Cindy seemed patient, but a closer look told Max that it was simply because she hadn't slept for days. He wondered why, but he wouldn't ask. Ed sat cross-legged atop one of the dummies, smiling and making nonsensical jokes about the odd (bright-as-hell orange) color of the stranger's hair. The stranger, irritated as anyone would have been, was snapping back at him with insults that burned like a quick touch to a hot stove. Isabel leaned against the wall near the staircase, fists in the pockets of her jeans, looking ready to kill. She'd greeted them with a nod, and then she'd been off on a tangent of an explanation that Max still wasn't sure he caught the entirety of. A glance at Isaac, who was shaking his head and blinking rapidly, assured him that he wasn't the only one a little lost. "Mister Spender- our teacher, mentor, close friend back from the dead- was flirting- legitimately flirting- with a woman we hardly know."

Isabel nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as though waiting for him to put the mucky puzzle pieces together in seconds. "Exactly."

"But that doesn't-!" Max looked at Isaac, who was standing behind him with a hand running through his hair, eyes wide and nose scrunched. "That doesn't make any sense!"

"But if it did?" Isabel waved her hand in a small circle, motioning for either one of them to continue. "What would make that situation make sense?"

Max squinted, scratched his head, and then raised a weary eyebrow. He racked his brain for possible scenarios, each as unlikely and far-fetched as his weirdest dreams. When he'd cleared out the inane, impossible, and utterly ridiculous, there was only one theory left that he could settle on. "Guillory is her maiden name- she's Spender's wife?"

Isabel smirked and tapped her nose at the side. "I thought that, too- but she's not."

"Wait, what?"

Ed leaped down from his place on the dummy, whipping out his paintbrush before drawing a large empty black box in the air. "Let's go over the clues, shall we?" Max looked back at Isaac again, who winced and shrugged, feeling equally as clueless. Ed painted a small head, and then drew some spiky hair atop it- a caricature of Isaac, Max soon figured out. "First things first; Berenice didn't know about Isaac's-!" They all paused and glanced at him, and he scowled and waved them off. "She didn't know about Isaac's situation, right? Well, if she was an agent of our parent organization- she wouldn't have been talking so openly about classified information."

"Then," Isabel pulled away from the wall, nodding to Ed when he twirled his brush between his fingers. He grinned from ear-to-ear and drew a large circle over what appeared to be a small cluster of buildings. "She knew about the breeches."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Max pointed at Zarei and Cindy, who stood patiently by the doorway of the open infirmary door. They both went wide-eyed and blinked. "They knew about the breech- and so did we!"

"Except," Ed drew another head, scribbling an unfamiliar scowling face in its blank circle. "Zarei and Cindy only knew because we told Old Man Guerra, and he told Zarei. Cindy knowing is my deal." He waggled his brush to the stranger standing rigidly straight. "That dude's an agent who just showed up in town to check on Spender, and apparently they had no idea he was considered 'dead' for the three months he wasn't checking in." The agent nodded and stepped forward, offering a hand that wasn't firm to shake when Max took it.

"My name is Agent Aldo Bove. I'm one of Richard's newer coworkers. I just recently came into his level of clearance." He pointed to the black box behind him with nothing but his thumb and a shrug of his stiff shoulder. "Aside from not knowing of Spender's death, as temporary as it may have been, we had no intel of a breech in the barrier of any sort. The agent who called you that night was no agent of ours, and I'm going to assume we can say the same for the agent who called your teacher."

Max blinked, then blinked again. "Wait, so if our parent organization didn't know about Spender being dead…"

"They couldn't send a replacement." Isaac came to stand beside Max, looking just as disturbed as Max was feeling. "Berenice isn't Spender's wife…"

Isabel frowned up at the newest picture Ed had drawn inside the black box- a woman with long braided hair and devil horns. "… She's Conall's third ally- and I think Mister Spender is under her control."


	13. Chapter 13

**Now, before anybody says anything- yes, I know Zarei is gay and that whatever relationship she had in the past with Spender was purely platonic. However, this story was written and completed before the date between Zarei and Day even started. Please take this piece as, well, a product of its time (sometime mid 2016). It's been posted on AO3 for around a year now, and you can check there if you don't believe me ;D**

* * *

Her heels clacked against the polished wood floor of the small cottage she's built for herself in the woods. Spirits, differing in appearance and ability and ferociousness, scattered like scared rats under her feet. "I told you idiots to leave survivors- not to leave all of them alive." She huffed and let the front door slam behind her. "A death or two in their little clique might have been a major hit to morale, but I guess that's a thing of the past now."

It was a small home, and old, but it had done her well all these years. It stayed sturdy and beautiful, and in a way she thought it a physical manifestation of herself and her spirit. She almost thought she'd miss its small wooden door and the way the fire burned beneath the pot she'd pieced together from the Mayview Museum a good ten miles away (carrying that sucker back had been quite the hassle at the time). The quilt she'd sewn for herself to sleep under come freezing winter nights would be a figment of the past now that her strategy was set in motion.

She could hear Velda and Conall bickering in the tools she'd locked them in. The mermaid hairclip and the pocket watch sitting at the bottom of her small dark orange purse were buzzing, vibrating in her hands as loud as they were in her mind.

Berenice pursed her lips and let a fresh wave of air escape from the heat of her lungs, reaching her hand up to pull the tie out of her hair. She set it in her bag and ran tense fingers through her silky golden locks, humming as she came to sit in the small bench before her vanity. "Home sweet home, right?" She reached up to the first few buttons of the shirt she called her "business shirt", the one she wore when she took over Spender's job for all of three months. She ran a sensual finger down from the collar to her mid-chest, then ran it back up and lightly twisted the buttons out of their holes. "These clothes are so stuffy. It makes me so hot…"

Berenice pretended to cool herself off with a handheld fan, twisting her head to look over her shoulder where Richard Spender lurked in the background. He stood a straight as she figured a man of his personality would, looking so ready for danger when there was no way they were in any- yet. She batted her eyes and turned her arm in the direction of the sink. "Be a lover and get me some water?" He didn't respond, but his body carried itself over to what she'd deemed her small kitchen, grabbing a glass from one of the few cabinets she'd carved. With a smile, she bent into her vanity, setting her jaw on the back of her hand. She was in the spirit world in no less than three seconds, and the arguing she'd heard in the confines of her clutch became loud and abundantly clear.

"Look at what she's doing! You were foolish to trust her!"

"And yet here you are, dead just as I am- because you were foolish to trust me."

She practically heard Velda wince. "I- that's not-! This is not the same thing! I made a mistake, yes, but do not be so arrogant as to assume that mistake was following you anywhere! I am my own person! You are the sheep!"

"His point still stands, Velda." Berenice turned her head over her shoulder again, crossing her bare legs and running a hand along her small black skirt to smoothen the creases. "Regardless of the how's and why's, both of you are here- under my control." Velda cringed and bared her teeth, but she said nothing. Conall smiled from ear-to-ear, as if winning such a small argument was a victory in battle. She knew his ego drove him, same as it did her own. Velda- well, she knew Velda was driven by emotion. Which emotion was up for debate, although Berenice felt she had a few ideas. "You two can stop bickering, now. Once we've accomplished our objective you'll rest easy."

"You say that like our goal is in sight! I have some bad news for you, harpy" Velda gestured to the wide open space that was their melded minds, although she probably meant something different. "You've been wasting your time playing Stockholm Syndrome Housewife with some random consortium agent- not ripping the consortium out from under its own feet."

Berenice chuckled and moved so that she could lean her back against the vanity. "But I am."

"But you're not!"

"I hate to say it, love, but I agree with Velda this time." Conall crossed his arms over his chest, wide pupils narrowing like a cat's aiming eye. Velda's jaw dropped to hear him say it, but her tongue was out at Berenice as quick as her shock depleted. "What are you doing messing with some helpless fool who can hardly control a handful of teenagers?"

"Getting revenge- that's what." Berenice turned her head to the side and waved them off with one hand, scratching the edge of her vanity with the long nails on her other. "Now if you idiots could stop bickering and let me handle the plan you two had no part in- that'd be great."

She blinked and the cluster that'd been their melded minds had faded, and before her was a glass filled to the rim with ice and water. Spender smiled at her and she took it in a firm hand, careful to let her fingers brush against his as he passed the cup to her grasp. She thanked him with a pretty-eyed smile and tipped the glass over her dry lips. Each drop was a relief, every inch of water cascading down her throat a sweet icy bliss. She'd felt like she was overheating, dressed from her neck to her toes in appropriate teacher apparel. _No wonder school is out in the summer. That would've been unbearable._ She switched which leg was crossed over the other, and let her eyes scale the length of Spender's body. His black pants were thoroughly fitted, even for a borrowed pair of slacks. The white shirt adorning his shoulders and buttoning all the way up what she'd assumed to be a toned chest- well, that must have felt pretty hot.

Berenice hummed and twisted her finger in a circle, but the only response she got was a confused cocked brow. She tittered to herself and pulled the cup from her lips, giving him her most carnal grin. "You should take that shirt off, Spender. It looks like it'd be awfully hot, too."

It took what she'd said a few moments to register, and when it did his entire face went as bright as her reddest lipstick. "I- ah! Um, no- no, I'm quite alright."

Her lips parted to say something, but she bit it back with a sneer and turned around. _Well, that's not good._ She ran her fingers through her scalp and looked at herself in the mirror, watching as her golden locks fell like caramel over her face. _I'll have to fix that._

* * *

"You people are insane!" Agent Bove waved his arms around dramatically, expression ranging from unfathomable disbelief to fervent frustration. "We need to call for backup! We have no idea how many spirits she's manipulated. We could be walking into a literal hoard of grudges!"

"And if we do call for backup, which I most assure you we won't," Zarei stuck her hands in her pockets, and fixed Agent Bove with a scowl so staggering everyone could discernibly see him tremble "then the odds of Richard Spender walking out of this alive are cut in half. I have full confidence that Isabel and I can get through to him given time. Bringing agents with no connection to the operation will ensure Spender's death, and I'm just about sick of burying the man."

"So what?" Max raised an eyebrow Ed assumed was of curiosity- or skepticism, knowing him. "We just walk in there with our fingers crossed we don't get overwhelmed?"

"We keep our heads up and our wits about us. We can't afford to get anyone else involved."

"Okay- I get that," Isabel turned her head over her shoulder, eyes narrowing in Zarei's direction from where she stood taking shots at the training dummies. She seemed skeptical as Max did, but Ed knew she was far less willing to question that plan if it meant keeping Spender alive. "But how are we supposed to figure out where they are? I didn't get a great look at Guillory's license plate."

"We have documents for that sort of thing," Bove tapped the side of his head. "Berenice is one of Conall's allies; we have records on her from the past. We harvested some of her aura the same way tools harvest it, pretty much for tracking her within the Mayview vicinity. We'd just assumed she was dead like the other two so we've never used it."

"So you have to go and retrieve those documents before we go after them?" Ed wasn't too keen on that idea. They'd spent months mourning Spender, and to have him ripped from their hands so suddenly was motivation enough to start a fight. He could feel Muse humming in agreement where he'd tucked his tool in the belt loops of his pants. Call it Burger-family intuition, but he had a feeling that the rest of the club was as ready to kick some spirit teeth in as he was. Their faces read of death and their auras flittered through the air like colored aromas. Isabel seemed the worst, nails scratching at the skin in the palm of her hand because she was itching in her blood to take their final opponent down. They had, after all, spent six years of their lives living in anticipation of the final ally's move. The exhilaration of ending it all- settling the score once and for all- that was a rash Ed couldn't seem to rid himself of either.

"It shouldn't take me any longer than fifteen minutes." Bove pointed an accusing finger, but Isabel gripped it between firmer fingers and he faltered in everything but his scowl. "I'm already doing you a favor by keeping this from the boss. You want to rush me? Be my guest. My loyalty isn't with you."

"And yet you're agreeing to help us?" Isaac's inquisitive gaze lingered on the last words, and Bove's grimace fell with Isabel's grip.

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Either way," Zarei stood straighter as she came to stand in the cold middle of the collected group, eyes grazing over what she had to work with. Ed almost felt like a chess piece, and he would've said something about it had Cindy's trembling hand not found the edge of his shirt. He glanced down at her and she, through tired eyes, gave him a small encouraging smile. He understood it better than he felt he should have- she was scared. He related to that emotion, and he'd shaken quivering hands with it many times before. It did seem like a lot, he supposed. The one time Cindy had ever gone up against one of Conall's ally's, she'd taken on a gargantuan squid and nearly lost her life in the process. _Now that I think about it, Izzy and I were almost ghosts, too…_ "While Agent Bove is doing that, we need to make a plan of attack. First things first- we split into groups."

Ed spotted the frantic gaze Max and Isaac shot each-other, and he watched their silent conversation delve from something uneasy to something hearteningly encouraging. Ed clenched his own fist.

"Group A will go right for Guillory and Richard, and Group B will defend Group A from oncoming attacks from the assumed packs of spirits we'll find upon walking into her nest." The venom with which Zarei said 'nest' was enough to make everyone in the room cringe.

"Well if it helps, I think Ed and Cindy should share a group." Isabel spoke in mutters, but the frustration in her eyes read louder, and she turned her gaze somewhere to the side to hide it. "They sure have been 'working' together just fine…"

Cindy squinted before looking altogether baffled, and she turned her puzzled eyes on Ed. In truth he was equally as perplexed. He'd known she'd been upset about him seeing Cindy instead of her, but the sheer level of wrath she'd let loose on him as they stood together on the patio hadn't just been about his coping mechanisms, although he was yet to figure out what said reason was. She'd wanted to tell him something, and for once she was- and this stumped him- too scared to. She'd never been the type to cower to anything or anyone, not even a rambunctious dog or her grandfather. To have her standing, in his hands, hiding from him- it'd hurt. If he was honest with himself, he deserved it. He'd spent all that time, running to Cindy's in the middle of the night, instead of sitting down on Isabel's bed and letting the chain on his mourning laments loose. God, he didn't know what Isabel must have thought, watching him come home exhausted both mentally and physically. God, he didn't even give her a reason- just "I don't' wanna talk about it" or "I'm tired". She must have known; she had to have known. If she'd been so loud about him relying on Cindy, then what else could she have possibly wanted to say?

Realization struck him like the chord on a guitar- suddenly, and with no prior warning. He let his lips part and his brows furrow, and it was with great awe that he started to piece Isabel's recent behavior into the puzzle she'd left him with, bit by curious bit. He furtively set his gaze on Isabel, although she seemed to be keeping her eyes steadfastly on anything that wasn't him. He felt the tug of Cindy's hand at his shirt and saw the aura swaying above Isabel's bare tank-topped shoulders, and suddenly everything made a little more sense. He grinned, for the first time in a long time, and turned to pay attention to the commands Zarei was listing off.

"So… do we just" Isabel made a motion with her fist, pounding it against the palm of her hand "break in there and starting kicking ass or-?" The club crouched in the brushes outside a small cabin in the woods, something not lost on Ed, who was particularly amused by it.

Zarei shook her head in synch with Agent Bove, who looked absolutely drained already. That wasn't a huge surprise, all things considering. In just a day, he was overthrowing nearly a decade-long Mayview threat, keeping secrets from his newly-appointed superiors, and being manhandled like a small child by two aggressively dominant personalities. Ed was surprised, and impressed, that the poor guy hadn't called it quits and just stayed passed out when he went to the consortium. "We stick to the plan. Isabel, Miss Balton- you're with me." It was an arrangement Ed wasn't particularly fond of, but he wasn't about to bring forth the fury of the only woman who could patch him up after a final-boss-level beating. "Group B, you stay here and wait for our signal."

"Which was…?"

Zarei glared at Max, who laughed and held up both hands in mock defense.

As they approached the front door of the small cabin in the woods- creepy, Isabel noted- the familiar sensation of doubt began circling in her stomach, swallowing the confidence that'd been there moments before whole. She swallowed it down, although it felt more like it choked her, and she tried her best to focus on Zarei and the path before them. They crouched down to avoid detection, and Isabel couldn't help but look back. Max and Ed were both waving her off, heartening smiles a small but helpful comfort as she and the rest of their small team crept over to the side window sitting somewhere above what appeared to be a bed. Guillory's and Mister Spender's relation to the bed, however, was yet to be determined. Zarei looked over her shoulder and nodded, signaling Isabel to look over her shoulder and nod to Cindy. The poor girl looked about as shaken as a brand new spectral might have been, her green eyes wide and dismayed behind her gritty stare. Isabel tried her best to offer her a comforting grin, and it seemed to work, but she could still feel the fear riding off of Cindy in swirling spurts.

It might have been her own fear.

"Three…" Zarei began the countdown, fingers up for emphasis. Isabel held her breath, and Cindy gripped the back of her shirt for a support Isabel wasn't sure she'd find.

"Two…" Isabel glimpsed back at Group B again. She told herself she couldn't help it- that finding his gaze was like looking for the lighthouse in the dead of the night, and perhaps that was the truth. Ed's reassuring smile faded to become something greater, something more in-touch with the reality they were living. His smile was small, but everything else about him- his posture, his eyebrows, his shoulders, and the twitch of his nose- was so immense to her right then. Even from afar, he was making a promise to her that she'd be alright. Maybe it was because it was Ed, or maybe she knew it even under all of the stresses of the situation at hand, but there was a sudden prodigious feeling of sureness; she could do this. She'd be fine.

They would see each-other again.

"One…!"

Cindy whipped out her cell phone and, with a flick of her wrist, she turned it into a butcher's knife. She took a deep breath and raised her arm, sending it crashing into the window with force enough to shatter the glass. Zarei and Isabel took the chance to leap over the windowsill and into the house, tools and spectral shots ready at the aim. Upon entering the small cabin, the first most noticeable thing was Spender standing to the side, clad in a frilly chef's apron (dotted from top to bottom with pink and red hearts). The second most noticeable thing was Guillory, hands in oven mitts, trying desperately to set a steaming hot pie down. From the looks of the bursting filling dripping down the sides, it was cherry. They both appeared surprised to have company, but Guillory looked more miffed than embarrassed. That was funny, considering Isabel would have expected some form of shame from Spender's end. When she looked to his face she found none. "Well," Guillory dropped the pie on the counter and slammed his mittens right beside it. "It looks like my plan needs a little improvising."

"If you know what's smart, shrew" Zarei stood and cracked a line of her spectral aura like a whip. "You'll release him before I use you as my next surgical treatment dummy!"

"Big words, Miss Zarei. Care to live up to them?"

"If she doesn't," Isabel clenched her fist and let her aura flow through her. The feeling fit against her skin like an old friend, a power that'd been sitting within her that she hadn't used in forever. It was her passion- a real drive behind every punch she'd throw and every swing of her umbrella. "I will!"

Cindy climbed in, sitting on the windowsill with her tool in one hand and the broken border in her other. She was trembling, but her face read of danger.

Guillory inhaled slowly, turned her unamused gaze to the ceiling…

… And to their honest surprise, she broke into hearty laughter.

Even Spender seemed surprised, eyes widening behind his glasses and he reached around to untie the apron from his waist. Guillory's hearty laughter broke into tiny snickers that she tried to stifle with her hand, and the look in her eyes would have read as frolicsome in any other situation. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just thought you'd have something more dramatic to say. Something like" her voice came in a purr. " _That's your last word_ or _Keep your filthy hands off my best friend!_ "

The phrases hit Isabel like a replica gunshot to the face, a bouquet of memories stampeding to hit her all at once.

 _Isaac's other hand sat at the back of Conall's head, tugging viciously on his hair. "I was waiting for you to say my name." His expression darkened and he moved closer, empty eyes tightening. "That's your last word." Then there was electricity flowing in and out of the ghost. Conall was screeching._

 _Immediately, Ed sat up and coughed, inhaling heavily and grasping for the air he'd been denied for longer than was probably healthy. When his chest finally stopped burning and his sight returned to him, he glanced to the side to find what had saved him._

 _He was ecstatic to find Isabel on top of Velda, fist pulled back and scorching with red energy. Her aura was nothing compared to the fire in her eyes._

 _"Keep your filthy hands off my best friend!"_

"Oh my god," Zarei and Cindy turned to her, eyes just as puzzled as they were cautious. Isabel's aura temporarily faded to a low burn, a sudden shiver coming over her body as realization hit her even harder than the earlier gunshot. "You were there! You were there the entire time!"

"Well, no." Guillory raised a hand to the pocket watch around her neck and the mermaid clip in her hair. "My friends told me all about it themselves. Don't worry. I haven't been stalking you or your friends- or your boyfriend, for that matter."

"That's uncalled for." Zarei came to Isabel's defense before she could, stepping in front of her with an outstretched arm. "This is business. Keep her personal affairs out of this."

"Coming from the woman more tragic than anyone else here. Out of curiosity," Guillory reached over and ran her middle finger down the length of Spender's chest, a grin inching across her face as she watched for Zarei's reaction. "Does this piss you off?"

A spectral shot right past her head did little but prove her point. Guillory whistled and glanced over her shoulder, as though the shot would have left a mark in her unpossessed wall. "Well, that's a yes." Isabel hissed at Zarei when her aura began to grow well above her body, but the woman hardly paid her any mind. It wasn't too surprising, considering Zarei was a great many years her senior, but Isabel would have thought she'd have more sense.

Spender stood still, expression as blank as any mindless dummy's would have been. Isabel shivered to see him like that. Usually his face was an orchestra of different emotions. Spender hid a lot of things, but he'd never been very good at hiding what he was feeling. The Spender before them was simply not her Spender- their Spender. He was a zombie under psychedelic manipulation and Isabel wasn't about to let that stand.

Guillory hummed and ran her finger back up Spender's chest until her hand could come to sit at his shoulder. "You know, I thought it was going to take much longer than three months to tell me everything I needed to know- he's surprisingly easy to break."

"That's because you're a medium with powers," Zarei chided "not because you have anything worth calling feminine wiles!"

Berenice snorted. "Somebody's mad because she didn't get the boy at the end of the storybook." She clicked her tongue and shrugged, shaking her head to and fro. "Green certainly suits your aura, my dear."

The next spectral shot would've hit had Spender not grabbed Guillory by the arm and tugged her roughly out of the way. Isabel turned back to Zarei again, eyes wide. The older woman was overflowing with her aura, eyes sharp enough to cut straight through whatever shell Guillory had before. "It's not green…"

Guillory gasped and pulled herself out of Spender's chest, eyes and fingers flying to the good inch of hair Zarei's shot had snagged off her head. Her gaze fell from her charred locks to Zarei, who, upon further inspection, was smiling like a full-bellied cat. "…It's chartreus."

* * *

"I haven't heard anything yet." Ed frowned and bent forward, only to be rudely wrenched back by the rear of his collar.

Agent Bove sat behind him, fingers strutting along his neckline with an overarching atmosphere of "I dare you" somewhere in his bearing. "Stay here until Doctor Zarei gives the signal."

"Dude, seriously. What's going on in there?" So Ed wasn't the only one who noticed. Isaac seemed equally as perturbed, fingers twitching in anticipation by his hips, electricity cracking up his arms. "Quiet isn't good."

"Eh, it's subjective." Max leaned one arm on Isaac's shoulder. "In this case, you're right though- probably not."

"Shh!" Agent Bove held up a single finger. "I think I hear something."

The group fell into a silence, but whatever Agent Bove heard, they weren't hearing anymore. There was only the ambiance of spring- bees flying, birds chirping…

"Does anybody else hear a snake?" Ed cautiously glanced around at his feet, then turned to look behind him. "Anybody?"

The entire group twisted to each-other, looking around at their feet and behind the bushes to their sides, but nothing around would have logically been making a hissing noise of any sort. Ed patted his entire body down, found nothing, and shrugged. Agent Bove fell flat onto his butt and crossed his arms, a frown on his face funny enough that Ed contemplated pinching his chubby cheeks. Isaac and Max looked at each-other, shrugged, and turned back to Bove and Ed.

That's when something slimy, scaly, and long wrapped around Isaac's throat.

The corresponding seconds seemed to pass in a hurry, with Isaac being lifted into the high heavens with the trees and Ed hardly climbing to his feet in time to see his feet dangling in the air.

* * *

Isabel felt herself gasp as she only scarcely side-stepped one of Spender's kicks. If he hadn't been expecting that, he seemed more than prepared for it. He swung that same leg around in a full circle and brought it down, just before launching it straight for Isabel's face. "For a guy" she grunted and ducked to avoid it "Your leg sure does go high!"

"Richard!" She could hear Zarei calling to him from across the cabin, even if her voice sounded strained. A quick glance in her direction saw Zarei blocking a down-turned elbow from Berenice, shield up and bright, although flickering. "Look at what you're doing! That's your student, you fool!"

Isabel frowned and turned her gaze back to her teacher- one moment too late. A fist to the face sent her twisting around, struggling to catch herself and steady her footing. She shook her head and grasped her chin where he'd assuredly left a mark, but her attention was on his fast-approaching ninja stars. _Shit!_ Isabel waved her hand in a sad attempt to put up a spectral shield she wasn't focused or balanced enough to conjure competently.

"Try batting your eyelashes, doctor!" Berenice's voice was shrill, and growing higher with every deep orange fist she threw Zarei's way. "It won't work, but he might feel sorry about taking your life!"

Spender was creating more stars before Isabel could even block the first wave, tossing them like hot plates. _I'm not fast enough to deflect these!_ All she could do was raise both her arms over her face and pray silently for the best, wrists twisted away so that he, hopefully, wouldn't go cutting an artery. One star hit, but the next few struck a very pink wall. Isabel squinted through the creases her arms made to see Cindy standing in front of her, dropping her spectral barrier and every sharpened star with it. "Thanks."

"It's why I'm here!"

Cindy crouched and leaped into the air, twisting around to bring her knee upon Spender's shoulder. He dodged it easy enough, but he probably wasn't expecting for Isabel to take the distraction and run with it- literally. She let her aura collect around her hardened fist and rammed into Spender at full speed, leading her fist directly into his abdomen. She felt him grunt and hiss under her hand as they went flying into the kitchen stove. Cindy landed roughly on one foot, and she grunted and fell to the floor with a hand to the injury. It didn't look like it was sprained, but it would take a moment to stop burning.

For a few seconds, Isabel actually felt in control of the situation. She had Spender pinned against the wall, a fist in his stomach and her forearm barreling into his hip. She vaguely wondered if he'd hear her if she spoke to him, if he'd bend and break whatever spell he was under if she said the right words at the right time. That was, after all, the reason why Zarei had decided Isabel was best on the offensive team. If anybody was going to get through to Spender, it was one of them. "Mister Spender, listen-!" She was cut short by a stern knee in her chest, knocking the breath clean out of her lungs, leaving her to drop to her knees with her arms at her lungs. As she sat on the floor choking, trying her best to recuperate, Spender was already standing tall again, and it was with no hesitation that he reached down to run a hand through her hair, fingers brushing against the tangles and tugging harshly at the more sensitive strands. She squeaked when he jolted his grip, tugging her roughly off her knees to send her sliding across the wooden floor.

"Isabel!" She wasn't sure if that was Cindy or Zarei, but she wasn't about to waste time glancing around to find out. She could hear Spender's footsteps, calm and looming, a silent threat that left shivers down her back. She climbed onto her elbows and knees, using one hand to reach for the umbrella at her belt.

The footsteps came to a stop above her, and she could see his feet on either side of her shoulders. She didn't dare turn on her back to see him standing over her, not when she knew his eyes would look so empty. There was a terrifying burst of light, one she could only see because her shadow became as clear as day- it meant he was holding another batch of stars. Isabel steadied herself on her elbow, taking as deep a breath as she could humanly manage with the air still knocked out of her. _Focus._ She clenched her fist. _You can do this._

She watched as Spender raised his hand, a star between each finger, from the shadow that loomed above her. Steady. He sent the stars sailing at her head, but she flipped onto her back and struck them away with the length of her tool. Spender seemed visibly surprised, eyebrows high and eyes wide, and she took that lapse of focus to raise her legs between his. Isabel tossed him over her head, using the momentum to tumble back onto her feet. Spender went flying behind her, and it was with a firm hand that she gripped her umbrella.

"What exactly was your plan?" Zarei dodged another orange fist, eyes following the shot pass her head, just barely grazing the lenses of her glasses. "Why did you target Richard out of every agent in Mayview?"

Berenice snorted and sidestepped a spectral shot. If she noticed the lock of hair it'd taken on its way passed her head, she wasn't wildly infuriated about her new haircut. "The club, of course! Perhaps when the idiots you call my friends made their reckless moves, they were still children entirely irrelevant in the eyes of the consortium. Now that they're older," Zarei ducked to miss another fist, but she didn't catch the leg rising until Berenice's knee met her jaw and sent her flying to the floor. Zarei reached up and rubbed the offended area with a glowing hand, eyes on fire with indignation when Berenice stood over her with a flaming hand. "These kids have quite the reputation among the paranatural, don't they? I'd dare say they're revered as heroes- especially amid consortium agents."

"So, what's your point?"

"Well, the best way to hit consortium morale is to hit close to home- Richard Spender's little babysitting day job. The best way to hit them? Take their teacher from them- rip him out of their lives."

"But why have him return?"

"I didn't just have him return, darling, I had him return under my control."

Zarei squinted, but as realization skulked, her eyes grew wide and her skin as pale as an unpainted wall. "You were planning an attack from the inside!"

"I most certainly was! His betrayal would leave the club too busy tearing each-other apart to function, and the consortium would be left to deal with Spender on their own. They'd start purging the ranks-!"

"Like they did when you were an agent…"

"Exactly! The mass panic and hysteria over being marked a traitor by the consortium- it'd leave a rather large handful of spectrals without a purpose for their abilities or an organization to serve."

"You couldn't possibly believe they'd come running to you?"

"Why wouldn't they? I was, after all, betrayed by the consortium just as they were- that's all the reason someone struggling to find a purpose needs to know. By the time the consortium was done doing inventory, I'd have an entire army!" Berenice patted the mermaid clip in her hair and the pocket watch at her chest. "Not to mention, I've got the spirits of my little friends helping me out here! One tool just isn't enough, you know?"

"Enough to take the consortium down a notch."

"Please- take them out completely! I just needed to take him away every few days to maintain our bond."

"What bond?" Zarei scoffed. "This is mind control and he is strong enough to break through your little tricks."

Berenice bit her bottom lip, snickered, shook her head, and then pulled her glowing fist back for another shot. "I wouldn't be so sure."

* * *

The struggle to get out of the chokehold the snake spirit or whatever the hell it was had Isaac in was a quick one; nine times out of ten, sentient beings didn't enjoy being electrocuted. Isaac tugged on the tail around his throat and squeezed tight enough to bruise, barring his teeth as he channeled a strong surge of lightning out of his hands and into its skin. It hissed, and Isaac almost felt bad when its tail was charred bad enough to crumble beneath his fingertips. He raised a hand to the ground as he fell from the trees, creating a cloud large enough to create a gust of wind he could slip down like a slide to the grassy floor. He landed with a huff, turning his contemplating eyes on the rest of his group. "The spirits from before- she's still controlling them!"

Agent Bove nodded and turned to glance over his shoulder. "Looks like more are headed our way. You kids can take care of yourselves right?"

Max squinted at him sarcastically, raising both hands in an irritated shrug. "Are you kidding me?"

"Believe me," Ed grinned and twirled his paintbrush like a pen between his fingers. "We are more than ready for this."

Ed and Agent Bove stood back-to-back, Ed cutting down whatever spirits came his way with a thick, sharp line of ink (a scythe, his preferred weapon, usually). A frog-like spirit, walking on two slimy legs made its way toward him, acid-burned-looking tongue hanging from his mouth and leaving a trail of acidic slobber where he walked. Ed drew a longer handle on his scythe and reached out just as the spirit leaped into the air. With a sharp breath, he caught its throat in his blade and severed its head in midair. Ectoplasm came dripping from the heavens, and Ed squeaked and raised his barrier above himself and Agent Bove mere seconds before it melted their clothes and skin clean off.

A smarter spirit saw the opportunity to strike while he was distracted, and it used its two fangs (roughly the size of its own 4'3 body) as jousting swords. It charged at Ed with intent to kill, and Ed could only turn at the first glimpse before Agent Bove had his own shield up around them. The spirit met the wall with a huff and a high-pitched grunt, sliding down the barrier. Agent Bove dropped his aura and took a spectral shot at its head, wincing when tiny drops of ectoplasm hit the sleeve of his onesie. "Keep a better eye on our surroundings."

"Yeesh, sorry! Ya let one spirit get the jump on ya and suddenly everything you've been doing is bad."

"Don't be such a drama queen, kid."

Ed opened his mouth to retort, but a familiar scream hit his ears first. He couldn't make out the words, but he could hear Isabel's terror as clear as he heard his own breath leaving him at the sound. "Isabel!" He made a move for the front door of the cabin, but Agent Bove gripped him by the back of his collar. He flailed and threw his fists around, kicking his legs and twisting his head over his shoulder to give the guy hell. "Would you- let go of me! Isabel's in trouble!"

"And we're gonna be too if you don't stay here! She's a Guerra, right? She'll be fine!"

"She's not just a Guerra, dude!" The next spirit that came at him had the wrong idea, because he didn't even blink before he led the edge of his weapon into its skull, sliding it down the size of its torso for good measure. He turned back to Agent Bove, who had his firm attention on a spirit a good three inches taller than him. He took his tool, a small silver butter knife, and enlarged it to the height of his body, sticking it into the spirit with so much strength that he was twisting it around in the air. "She's Izzy- my Izzy! And I know when she needs my help!"

"What-?" Agent Bove turned around, raising his tool and slamming it into the ground, leaving the spirit on the other end to burst like a balloon upon impact. There was no ectoplasm, thank god, but the disgusted look on Agent Bove's face spoke like there had been. "Doctor Zarei and the Balton girl are in there!"

"But I'm not! I'm not leaving her alone again!"

"It's okay!" Isaac called from across the clearing, one hand on a spirit's face and the other blocking an oncoming attack from another spirit. "We've got things handled out here! Go get her!"

Ed sighed and mustered up his best smile for Isaac, nodding as he twisted around on one foot to make a run for the cabin. "Thanks! I owe you one!"

Isaac laughed and called back over his shoulder. "You bet you do!"

The laughter was short-lived, because moments later he heard a cry inches away from him. Isaac whipped his head around fast enough to give himself whiplash, and cringed to see Max writhing on the ground under a spirit's clawed hand. It ran its thumb along Max's throat, drawing blood where it pressed. Max grunted and tried to kick it off, but he wasn't strong enough to do much but kick his legs into its belly. Isaac hissed and raised a fistful of lightning. "Wrong spectral, buddy." A quick dose of electrification sent the spirit screeching and flying into a tree, hard enough that its head grew stuck in the hole on impact. Max wheezed and gasped for air, sitting up and grabbing his throat for good measure. Isaac was bending down by his side in seconds, one hand at his shoulder and another at his forearm. "You okay?"

Max turned to him, and he was a little perplexed at the grimace that met his concern. "Are you asking if I'm okay because we're friends?"

Isaac shrugged, gave Max a weak smile, and nodded. "I mean, yeah?"

Max scowled and pushed Isaac off of him, just enough to get him away but not hard enough to be aggressive. "Great. Perfect. Thanks." He came to stand on his own, taking his bat from the ground where he'd dropped it in his struggle. Isaac blinked and came to stand again, tightening his eyes at Max's turned back.

"What-? Max, what is your problem?"

"My problem?" A spirit made the mistake of lunging for Max right at that moment, and he swung his bat with such a force that it crushed the spirit's head on impact. "You! You're my problem!"

Another spirit came at Isaac from behind, but he didn't even turn around to face it. A powerful burst of wind was enough to send it flying three yards away. "What does that even mean, Max?"

"Dude, if you can't figure that out" the sound of Max's bat colliding with another spirit's face sent chills down the spine "then maybe you're right! Maybe we are better off as friends!"

Isaac's entire body burned with anticipation, and perhaps a masochistic urge to argue. The emotion had been building up for some time, he supposed; a second fight between him and Max was all but inevitable. "Okay, that's it! Get your empty head out of your hoodie for a second! I wasn't the one who suggested we stay friends first- that was you and you have no right to pin that on me!"

"When," Max gripped a spirit by its throat and tossed it over his shoulder just as Isaac planted a firm thundering kick in a larger spirit's waist. The spirit detonated on impact "in the hell have I ever- ever- said that we should just be friends?"

"Literally the day we met Berenice, Max!"

"What?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Isaac grunted as a spirit he'd dealt with minutes before tried knowing on his arm with only three teeth. He gripped it by the back of its head and threw it to the ground, bringing his heavy leg upon its smaller body. "Did you not introduce me as _My Friend Isaac_? Because that's something I distinctly remember! Kinda set my radars off a little- and lo and behold, look where we are now!"

Max paused mid-swing, choosing instead to dodge the feral wolf spirit that went flying by his face and over his shoulder. He blinked at Isaac, frowned, grimaced, and then scowled and rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Isaac! Are you serious?" He twisted around and met the wolf spirit's second attack with a metal bat to the face. "Oh my god, fine! I'm sorry about that! It's just what came out!"

"Okay, sure." Isaac sarcastically shrugged and formed a barrier over his back, using the spirits lunging for him as bowling balls. He twisted his arm around and sent them spiraling into the cluster of trees to his side. "Then why weren't you in bed when I woke up? Why did you avoid the whole _Sleeping Beauty wake me with a kiss thing_ when I mentioned it?" He ducked and a goblin-looking spirit went right over his head. "And, oh yeah- you said you regretted sleeping with me, so there's that!"

"Holy crap, Isaac! You are such a freakin' drama queen!" The spirits seemed to pause for a moment, and it left the two of them standing there, face-to-face and entirely invested in the heat of the conversation. Max sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, but he never broke eye-contact with Isaac. "But I'm sorry. I really didn't- I never meant to hurt you. I can't say that I don't regret it, because I do, but it's not because I don't care about you or want you or something equally as gut-wrenchingly cheesy. I regret that we got together when we did, because it wasn't just us you know? It was grief and our fear about what would be coming tomorrow… That night wasn't about us; it was about Spender, as weird and creepy as that sounds." Isaac frowned and turned his head to his feet, his gaze somewhere to the side. Max hummed in exasperation, feasibly at himself. Isaac wasn't sure even Max knew. "I guess I was just worried that you weren't doing it because you, ya know, liked me or loved me or anything like that. I was kind of-!" Max paused, and Isaac almost thought he wouldn't say it, but he swallowed and found Isaac's expecting eyes again. "I was scared. I was scared you were just grieving- that you wouldn't have usually done what you did in a different situation."

Isaac wasn't sure what he was feeling- elation, stress, liberation- but he knew one emotion well enough to pick it out of the bunch.

Guilt.

He swallowed hard and met Max's eyes with just as much determination as he'd been met with. Max had spilled his guts; it was only fair he do the same. "No, actually. I've wanted to do that for a while now." Max's eyes shined for a moment, and Isaac could see traces of a pink dusting across the tops of his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm really, honestly, cross-my-heart sorry. I didn't just ask you upfront about everything I was thinking, and I jumped to conclusions and it only ended up hurting both of us." He rubbed the back of his neck, but let his hand fall limp against his side seconds later. "That's really just because I do care about you like that," he could feel his own cheeks heating up like hot coals and his stomach shifting to and fro just below his ribs, but he wasn't about to look away again. "I was afraid of losing you because I've wanted you for such a long time, even if I didn't really admit it until a good three or four months ago. I'm actually kind of surprised you thought I wasn't interested! I thought I was being so incredibly obvious about it."

Max chuckled and shrugged, a cocky smile inching across his lips. Isaac might've been irritated by that if he wasn't feeling the same smirk on his face. "Well, you did say no homo when we left the beach."

"What-? Max, that was six years ago!"

"So?" Max shrugged his shoulders. "It stuck!"

Another wave of spirits came rushing in from all directions, and it was with a great conviction in each-other and themselves that Max and Isaac pressed their bodies back-to-back. Their auras broadened, and Max squeezed his bat while Isaac fashioned a cloud in the palms of his hands. "Hey Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Does this mean you and I are…?"

There was a snicker so quiet Isaac only felt it against his back. "I mean, it's not like I've been waiting six years or anything."

Isaac exhaled and laughed, smile widening from ear-to-ear.

* * *

Cindy squealed as another spectral shot came within inches of her throat, and she wasn't even the one being shot at. Zarei and Berenice moved in flighty circles around the cabin, sending shots and kicks whenever their claws didn't feel like enough.

If Cindy took a moment to do some last minute self-inventory, she was scared. Yes, maybe the looming threat of a tsunami wasn't approaching miles by the minute, but- Cindy glanced at the mermaid pin in Berenice's hair and the pocket watch around her neck- Velda, the woman capable of all that, she was trapped inside that pin.

Cindy huffed and came to stand, slowly and with a tremor in every move. They were an hour away from the nearest ocean. There were more of them than there were Berenice and Spender. She had no reason to be scared. _I can do this._ She took a deep breath and plunged at Berenice from behind, whipping her cellphone into a dagger so sharp it may as well have been a needle. The dagger hit, and Zarei laughed out loud as Berenice inhaled and fell to her knees. Cindy smiled and slowly dragged the dagger, inch by inch, piece by piece, out of Berenice's curved side.

Isabel gasped and brought her umbrella up to cover her from the stars Spender flung at her, wincing when his next move was to send a kick to her stomach. She went skidding across the floor, head riding straight into the corner of one of the bed frame's legs. She winced and sat up as fast as she could, pressing the palms of her hands to the floor and grunting when he held another star over her head. She could see beads of sweat dropping from his brow, creeping down to the skin of his jaw. He was getting tired just like she was. _Of course_ , she chided herself. _Isabel, he's got like fourteen years on you!_ She prepared to roll out of the way, but just as she brought her arm in the air to swing it over her side, she could feel something grab it. "What the-?" A quick turn of her head verified the worst- Spender was manipulating her own shadow. Its pure black hands, dark like the bruises on her skin, wrapped around her upper arms and tugged her roughly to the ground. She inhaled and started kicking and twisting her whole body, trying her best to tear her body away as fast as possible. Her back arched off the floor, and Spender did little but press his foot into her stomach. She winced as his heel dug into her abdomen, and struggled to open an eye to look at him. He readjusted his glasses and tilted his head, as if her life was hanging in a delicate balance right in the palm of his sweating hands.

"This will all be over soon, Isabel. Do this old man a favor and don't struggle. Death is something that comes for us all, after all."

Shock, icy and scorching at the same time, surged through her veins and to her brain where she registered it as panic. Her legs skidded to a stop, but she brought them as close as she could to the rest of her body, quivering under the indifferent look in his eyes. It hurt- it hurt so badly to see him standing over her, promising to take her life, like killing her wouldn't leave him as hollow and miserable as his death had left her. Floods of memories that'd visited her in the first few weeks following his death came back like she'd taken a sledgehammer to a dam, and each one was of a kind smile, a warm tight hug, a reassuring word…

Tears welled in Isabel's eyes, even though she wouldn't let them fall just yet. She tried to pull her arms out of the grips of her shadow again, but it was truly of no use. Spender multiplied the stars in his hand, each brighter than the last, her shadow stronger and rougher for it. He raised his arm to shoot them down at her, and that's when she took a chance on her last words. "Mister Spender, stop!"

He paused.

Isabel held her breath as he froze, blinking in abundance and turning his head slowly around the room. He stood there, watching Cindy pull her dagger out of Berenice, but his eyes locked on Zarei's, who stood there watching him with poised caution- controlled hope. He shook his head once and then again another two or three times. The hand filled with stars fell limp to his side, and he tilted his head when their eyes met. Isabel still couldn't breathe when he silently reached a hand out to her, wincing and worrying his lower lip. The shadows that'd been tugging and pulling at her arms slid back into the floor without a moment of hesitation, and she slowly reached forward and took his larger hand in her own.

"I beg your forgiveness, Isabel."

She nearly started smiling as he pulled her to her feet, dusting her off from her shoulders to her waist. "It's okay." He looked up at her and she looked down at him, giving him her best "apology accepted" smile. He came to stand tall before her, a small smile inching across his face.

She didn't feel the star pressed against her lower back until it was halfway lodged under her skin.

Isabel shrieked and fell forward, clutching the cloth of Spender's shirt as her body edged to the ground. He watched her with no emotion, standing and stepping to the side as she fell to her knees. He came around behind her and pressed his foot into the star where it stuck out of her back. Isabel screamed and fell forward, gasping for air. She couldn't breathe- all that came out was cry after scream. She gasped and choked and coughed, but she couldn't get one breath of air. Her fists fell lifeless against the floor.

"I realize an earlier death is an inconvenience and I am sorry for such ill timing."

Spender pressed a foot to the star in her back, pressing it slowly further into her so that it might touch muscle and bone. Isabel cried and shivered, falling limp on the floor and squeezing her eyes shut as firmly as possible. Spender raised more stars and held them over her head, but gasped as a thin stroke of green wrapped around his throat and pulled him backwards and off of Isabel. Zarei squeezed the threads of aura in her hands and drew him closer, drawing blood at the tip of his neck as a warning. "If you move one inch, know that I will have your head, Richard."

Much to her surprise, he froze again, although she could feel him trembling in her hands. She nearly let go, but a quick glance to the spots of Isabel's blood on the floor reminded her just watch the situation was. Isabel moaned and twisted around so that she could meet Spender's eyes over her shoulder. Zarei met her gaze and frowned. "I remember…" Spender's voice was guttural, struggling to work against the sharp threads menacing his life. She loosened her hold so he could speak clearly. An eyebrow raised, she incredulously awaited the next line; there was no other way to determine if it was a certifiable lie. "I remember you teaching me this technique."

His head inched downwards, his attention falling on Isabel's bloodied waist. Zarei grimaced and tightened her hold again, and Spender let out a smothered gasp in her hands. "Is that-?" He coughed and tugged at the aura choking him. "God, no. Isabel-!" Zarei told herself again and again- it's a lie. Berenice had him that good. She fought to keep her head on her shoulders, forcing down reminiscences of young hands brushing together, bare legs in the summer pressing against each-other as popsicles dripped into their laps… There was something wet on the backs of her hands, and Zarei paused in her struggle. She pulled him closer, stretching her neck out to get a better look at him. Tears, hot and wild and horrified, streamed down Spender's face the longer he sat there gawking at his bleeding student- a girl practically his own. "I'm sorry-!" He croaked. "I'm so sorry-!"

"No!" Zarei whipped her head to look at Berenice, who was fighting to get off the floor under Cindy's watchful eye, both hands at her open wound. "No, Richard, you listen to me!"

"How can he?" Cindy walked around, clutching the dull yellow hairband in the palm of her hand. Berenice blinked and frowned, but slowly realization came- hit her like a semi, smothering her into silence. Her blonde locks fell over her shoulders, loose and thin and looking awfully dry without the braid. She lunged for the hairband, but Cindy held it just out of her grasp, watching her. Berenice cried and tugged at her skin, then at her arms and her hair as it slowly turned silver as it fell through her fingers. Wrinkles pulled at her skin, and her hair seemed even duller than before. "Can't use your tool from this distance, huh? I'm going to go ahead and assume this thing makes you prettier, younger… more charming? Oh, okay. A succubus! That's it, isn't it?" Berenice wordlessly reached for the hair tie again, but Cindy held it far out of her grasp. "So, since this is the real you, I think it's fair that we reintroduce ourselves."

Berenice blinked down at the hand offered to her, then looked back up at Cindy, who was smiling from ear-to-ear. "My name is Cindy Balton." Berenice raised an eyebrow, reached out to grab Cindy's hand, as though considering repenting for her criminalities, and pulled back at the last second. She spit at the ground and Cindy cringed and stuck her tongue out, shaking her hand clean of any possible saliva. Berenice opened her mouth to retort, probably something along the lines of "Foolish girl! Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…" but she never got the chance. A mallet, pure black and dripping, smacked her square on the back of her head. Cindy watched as her eyes rolled back just before she fell forward, completely unconscious. "And that's Ed Burger." He stood above Berenice with a deep scowl on his face, but it softened upon meeting Cindy's less aggressive gaze. She tilted her head and gave him a smile, and he returned it with a relieved grin.


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm planning on leaving Mayview for a little while."

Zarei turned her gaze to Spender from where she stood beside him on the balcony of the dojo, a laugh itching at her throat because she knew better than he did. "You think that's a good idea?"

"I've battered my student, left her in the infirmary, and operated against the very organization I've sworn to uphold." He sounded drained, shattered, and she couldn't say she blamed him. He was coming down from weeks, conceivably months of mind washing. There was little qualm in her mind that such conditions would leave a soul stumbling over their- ethics, regrets, grief... "Why wouldn't it be a good idea?"

"You weren't here so you didn't see it." He glanced at her and she did her best to not look at him. She wasn't sure she could, not as she recalled his memorial. Sometimes she still smelled her crimson roses, still felt Master Guerra's arms around her as though the contact was customary for them. She'd never gotten the chance to visit his grave in the three months following his burial- rather, she'd never gathered the will. Patchworm tried to console her, tried to convince her it'd be in her benefit to stand over his tombstone and speak to him, but she'd known better. There wasn't going to be a weight off her shoulders; there'd only be a slow, painful descent into weakness. It was something she simply couldn't allow of herself. To let one wall down would be to let the entire house fall, and rebuilding it would have been far too much work. "Your family, your friends- everybody you claim to hold dear- we all gathered here" she gestured to the empty fields that spanned for miles after the dojo, yet somehow they were beginning to feel familiar again "to bury you. If I wanted, I could walk you to your grave. We didn't even have a body to bury and there still wasn't a soul without a tear in their eye."

"I see…" He sounded surprised, again, like he hadn't been expecting anyone to grieve. He was a martyr, she knew, and though she thought it one of his charming traits, she found it deadly at worst and gallingly inconvenient at best.

"Those students of yours were a mess while you were away. I swear the girl was driving herself into a stress-induced coma. Proof enough she was your student, honestly." He laughed and she clasped her hands together, leaning over the railing because the cold air of early spring felt good against the bruises Berenice had left. "If your funeral was any indication, your departure from this earth will be mourned for years to come. Leaving Mayview is conceivably the worst thing you could do, at least so soon."

She looked to him and he smiled kindly. It was an indulgent sort of happiness, an appreciation too deep to put into words- something they by and by avoided around each-other. She supposed that meant she'd gotten through to him, that he'd let her be that girl with sticky popsicle-soaked hands that he'd held all through summer all that time ago. He turned his eyes to the grassy fields below them, watching with great interest as a few students sparred under Master Guerra's vigilant gaze. She saw him clasp both his hands and start shaking them, perhaps unintentionally. "However long she had me down there, every day was like my worst nightmare. It was everything I expected of hell and more." Zarei frowned and set a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing without a word. She didn't need to say anything- they both knew it. "It was pitch black darkness for days, maybe weeks. I spent so long wherever she kept me I lost track of time entirely. As stubborn as I am, I almost contemplated ending my life."

That alarmed her, although he was speaking in the past tense. She'd never thought of it before, what it'd be like to long for death, but she had a suspicion that the feeling wouldn't just disappear for him, not when he'd nearly taken his dearest student's life. "Richard-?"

"But at the end of the day I overcame it, just as I've always done. My mind might have caved, she might have had control over me, but I fought her every step of the way- and now I'm home." The strained clench of his hands loosened, and he paused to take a breath of fresh air. "If the afterlife is anything like that," He smiled at her again, but behind the gratitude from before was ambition- drive, optimism. "Well, I'll go forth with no fear."

She concealed her laughter with a short huff of air, one hand over her mouth. "You romantic fool. Your wife missed you."

"Did you?"

The question came with no hesitation, and Zarei almost felt affronted, as though he'd attacked her while her defenses were down. She supposed he had, and she was willing to bet he knew it. Her wide eyed glance to his face proved little but his interest. His brows were furrowed, and in place of the grin that'd been there before was a frown. She opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn't quite manage a lone syllable. When she finally shook herself out of her reverie, she sighed.

"I've been missing you for years, Richard."

He took one of her hands in his own and squeezed it. At that point in time, turning away was little but a fond notion. They kept each-other there, and she wasn't sure if it was her holding him or him holding her. She squeezed his hand back and let him take a step closer. He ran a tender thumb along the backs of her fingers. His eyes, although covered, read easier than any book she'd ever picked up. She saw shared memories of days long gone, moments that should have defined their future and failed- moments that led them to stand where they stood now. She tried to tell him that she remembered all of it too, every embrace and every laugh and every farewell and every fallout.

His hand slipped from her own, and just like that the fragment of time away from reality came to an end.

* * *

He remembered carrying Isabel's cringing, shuddering body from the cabin to the car. He'd memorized every wince in her eyes and every grunt and whine of her throat- locked it in his mind with a chain and anchor. He'd done that to her. A few days later, and she was fine, but he still hadn't forgiven himself. He was her teacher; he should have been able to stop himself, shake whatever hold Guillory had on him. Isabel was his student, his friend, and he'd dare call her his child. To know that he'd been the one to stand over her, dig a star into her back- it killed him, hurt deeper than any other mistake he'd made in his life. He'd gone his whole time as a teacher without manipulating his pupils with fear, and he worried greatly that his own slip would teach Isabel to fear him.

Yet she stood tall by his side as he helped her up the stairs to the second floor. Walking wasn't the easiest thing for her to do, but what mattered was her ability to at all. She had a limp, but it'd be gone in a month's time. She still smiled at him just the same, and she didn't flinch when he held her waist to hoist her over the last step. "I have to say, I'm honored Master has considered me for such an important role."

"Yeah, well…" Isabel shrugged. There was a trace of pain in her eyes, although she hid it well. He just knew how to read those brown blinking irises. "It's either you or me. If you don't take the job," she glanced away "then I'll take over as the next master."

It'd been so long and she still forgot he knew her.

"Do you want that?"

She winced again and turned her head to glance down the hall, as though her bedroom door was beckoning her. One of her hands came up and tugged a strand of her hair behind her ear, though more belligerently than one usually treated their hair. "Does it matter?"

"Well," Spender smiled and leaned against the railings that separated him from the good three feet he'd fall had it not been there "I'd like to know I'm not taking a job you want to do."

"Wait," Isabel's eyes widened, and her lips parted to say something meaningful- a question. "Um, are you saying…?"

"Isabel," he sighed and gestured to the training room below them. Her gaze followed his outstretched arm, tilted head silently encouraging him to continue. Students stood there, grunting as each one of them took their own spectral shots at the hay dummies that'd been so recently replaced with newer models. One student stood in place, swaying and sweating their clothes damp. Their shots hit five times out of eleven, but their balance was horribly off. They were a rookie, clearly, uncertain of their own stance and body language. Spender didn't have to second-glance to know that much. Another student was twisting in circles with each shot fired, something Master Guerra would have reamed her for had he not been monitoring the sparring match in the front field. The scene was oddly familiar, something Spender often times saw when he remembered a younger- ten or eleven years old- Isabel. It left a bittersweet taste on his tongue, but he swallowed it down and continued on. "You've spent your whole life here at the dojo. You need to have time for yourself, to live your life the way you want to live it." Her head turned to him slowly, and he mustered his most genuine smile, because he meant every single word. If it meant giving her a chance to explore the world for herself, do work for the consortium like she'd always dreamed of doing- he'd take that bullet for her with no hesitation, not even so much as time to blink. "I've had my time; it's your turn now."

Isabel jumped into his arms seconds before the last word left his throat, her arms wrapped snuggly around his neck and shoulders. She dug her face into his neck and quivered where she stood, so he wrapped both his arms around her and rubbed her upper back with one warm hand. "Thank you," he heard her whisper. "Thank you so much, Mister Spender- for everything."

* * *

Ed's room was full of tossed clothes, some worn only once and others disgustingly (mysteriously) damp. He wasn't sure he remembered half of his dirtied wardrobe, himself. Isaac helped him sort through the better stuff while Max went down a list of traveling essentials. Isaac would toss one shirt away and Max would follow his disgusted gropes with a checkmark on what was quickly becoming a never-ending list.

"Ugh! This shirt is from, like, eighth grade! You know there's a charity right down the street that would love this, right?"

"Do you have your toothbrush packed?"

"Don't know and yes."

Max scowled and let the list in his hands fall into his lap where he stood, leaning his weight against Ed's desk. "What answer went to which question?"

Ed shrugged. "They're interchangeable really."

Max and Isaac groaned in unison. "Seriously," Isaac dropped the traveling bag on the floor with an irritated thud. "Why are we doing this again?"

"Oh boy, I'd love to remind you!" And so he did. Ed leaped onto the rolling chair beside Max, ignoring the cautious warnings from both of his friends. When he waved them off, Isaac went back to sorting through his unpacked essentials. Max only started laughing at him. "You're looking at Baxborough-Con's biggest guest star!"

It hadn't occurred to him, upon uploading his rant video, that the stupid thing would actually get views- and he certainly hadn't expected people to like it. People loved watching him play video games- loved his commentary and his jokes and his personality. There'd been near-instant demand for more. Within the month of posting his video, he'd reached a little over nine million followers. He'd been stopped on the street around four or five times by actual legitimate fans who wanted his physical autograph- in three days. He still couldn't believe it himself. Then, low and behold, the biggest comic convention known to, well, him, sent him a message around a day or two ago. He'd been so shocked that he'd fainted right there in the training room- gave Mister Spender quite the fright, actually.

"So, is that what you wanna do for a living?" Max raised an eyebrow. "Play video games for a camera?"

"For an audience, Max! And well," Ed shrugged and leaped down from the chair, only struggling a little to keep his balance when it rolled out from under his second foot. Isaac snorted an "I told you so".

"I mean, I love doing it, and the website I post them on is willing to pay me for the amount of views I get, so I might as well ride this out for as long as I can, right?" He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded to his old console, sitting like a trophy atop his television. He did, after all, owe that ol' girl his world. "This is the happiest I've been in a long time, and it could, ya know, turn into something bigger."

He met the blank, attentive faces of his friends, and felt relief when they both smiled at him.

"As long as you save that money up and don't spend it all like a moron."

"Yeah, ya could be set for life!"

Ed opened his mouth to retort, remind them that he might've been weird but he wasn't an idiot, but there was a commanding knock at his door.

His turned eyes fell on Isabel, who stood leaning against his doorway with her hair unlatched from its hairband. He watched the silky strands fall over her shoulders as she leaned her head against the wide-open door. She was smiling at him, chocolate eyes tapering in a way that made her entire face go soft. It was rare to see Isabel so calm- so happy, especially within the recent months. Then again, Ed figured, there really wasn't any reason to not be happy anymore.

"Hey guys?" Isaac and Max hummed. "Could you go and pick up some snacks and stuff for me? It's gonna be a long drive."

"Wait, what?" Max motioned madly to the mess that was Ed's room, even though it'd been there far before Isaac and Max helped him start packing. "We are not your errand boys!"

Isaac sighed and wrapped an arm around Max's shoulders, tugging him into his chest as they approached Ed's bedroom door. Ed didn't hear much, but he could distinctly make out Isaac's "just shut up and leave the room". Isabel nodded to them as they moved by her, and they both waved as they passed her on their way to the stairs.

Ed was already watching her when she turned around to meet his eyes again. She tried to keep her smile up, but it fell moments later, along with her head. She seemed to curl in on herself, head turned towards the floor as though she was looking for something interesting to say. He raised an eyebrow and forced his own smile.

"Conventions, huh? This one's pretty far away…"

Isabel shrugged and chuckled, one hand running up and down her other arm. He could still see bruises there from her fight with Spender, but she didn't seem to mind. She wore a short-sleeved t-shirt for the city to see them all, and some part of him- the twelve year old who followed her like a shadow- thought the world of her for it. Older him, a more mature, rational part of him, was nothing but grateful to see hints of the old Isabel again. She brought her gaze to his and opened her mouth to say something but didn't, so he said it for her.

"I'll miss you."

Isabel leaped in her skin, eyes wide and cheeks flushed a brighter red than he'd ever seen them. The hand at her arm fell to her wrist and clutched the muscle and bone there as firm as a lifeline. There were a few grating noises from her throat, tell-tale signs that she was struggling to say something, but she wouldn't let herself. That was fine; if he had to take the reins for once, then he would. "I didn't want to put my problems on you. You already had so much going on." Isabel's eyes narrowed at him, but her brows furrowed the way they would if she were concerned. He guessed it wasn't too wild for her to feel concerned and be mad at him at the same time. "I just couldn't tell you what I was going through, not when you were going through worse-!"

"That's exactly the reason why you should have come to me, you absolute dork!" He sighed when Isabel's hitched voice rang like massive bells in his ears. "That's when we need each-other the most!"

"And I know that now."

Isabel's fists fell limp, palms dropping to her thighs just as he tucked his own in the pockets of his pants. They both stood there, eyeing each-other up and down, both too scared to make a move.

Isabel frowned when his gaze narrowed, and soon she was staring at the floor with one hand tucking her hair behind her ear. He stepped closer, and she sighed and set one of her hands at the nape of her neck. "Ed…" Her voice was low like it usually was, but just as leveled and calm as the situation called for her to be. He didn't want that; he wanted the real Isabel, the Isabel that kicked his butt and kept him in line and always knew what to do. He wanted the Isabel he'd grown up with back, the Isabel that knew she could open up to him because he was back to himself knowing he could go to her.

She turned her head up to meet his eyes again, so he cupped her face in his hands and pressed a long, hard kiss to her lips. She gasped into his mouth, so he turned his head to the side. He could feel her melt into him, feel her hands drop to his chest and grip his shirt like he wasn't already as close as he could be. Ed pulled away, but only far enough for their noses to brush together. He wasn't sure if he'd done it or she'd started it, but her lips were red hot on his own in blinding seconds, and he found that it didn't much matter who'd made the first move. He parted his lips and Isabel took the lead from there, hands skimming painfully up his chest so that she could use one hand to hold him by the collar and the other to wrap around his neck. His hands slid deliberately from her shoulders, to her waist where she shivered, to her hips where he squeezed her. They pulled away, but every new breath was met with another kiss, each as profound and tender as the last. He'd lost track of who kissed who by the third time Isabel pulled at his hair. Eventually the kisses became soft, like feathers sweeping against each-other in heaven. When they touched, their lips brushed against each-other. Ed was huffing when he pressed his forehead to hers, and she was too. "Oh yeah, Izzy." He laughed, and she raised an eyebrow. "I'd totally hook up with my cousin. Yep. Totally not grossed out by the idea at all."

As the words itemized in her mind, the eyebrow grew higher, and Isabel strained to keep her laughter behind tight lips, but she was snickering and snorting and he loved it. "Oh please," the hand at his collar came up to meet the other behind his neck, arms wrapping over his shoulders and holding him closer than he ever thought they'd be. Her narrowed eyes spoke of danger, but the ring of her voice read frisky. "Wouldn't be the first odd thing you've done."

Ed grinned from ear-to-ear and brought her chin up so he could kiss her again.

* * *

Max didn't know what was worse, the fact that Isabel had scared her college dorm mate away within three hours, or that Isaac had gotten paired with the worst person possible.

"No," Isaac slammed his hand down on his designated desk, blue eyes wide and frantic "No, no way! Nu-uh! We're not doing this! I'm marching down to student services and I'm getting this sorted out!"

"Dude," Max leaned against the desk by his side, biting back a snicker every time Isaac hit the cheap wood that he wasn't even sure was properly put together. Ed was positively howling with laughter from his bed, holding his sides and rolling side-to-side like he wasn't in danger of falling off. "So Ed's your roomie. What's the big deal?"

"The deal, Max," Isaac scrunched his nose and rubbed the bridge between his eyes "Is that Ed is a slob, he's loud, and I'm pretty sure he's already got three-week old chips under his bed."

"We've been here a day."

"I know!"

Max sighed and the last of Ed's obnoxious laughter died off with his interest in the conversation at hand. Isaac huffed and crossed his arms, leaving the perfect opportunity for Max to slip one of his own over Isaac's shoulders. Isaac fell into him with no pause, and Max rejoiced in the feel of Isaac's head falling against his chest. "Look, it's not like you can't kick Ed out every once in a while. Isabel's got no roommate right?" He turned his narrowed gaze on Ed, who had paused in his mission to unpack his comforters and sheets. It was the best mocking brow Max had pulled off in a while, and it showed on Ed's steaming red face. "Unless, of course, Ed wants to just move in with her completely- like a married couple."

Ed stuttered and tripped over his words for a good thirty seconds, with which Isaac had started sniggering and patting Max's cheek- a vain attempt to make him stop teasing Ed. "I- you-! You know what?" Ed turned his nose in the air and twisted on his toes to the window between his half of the room and Isaac's. "I think you're just trying to get me out of here so you can move in with your boyfriend! That's the pot calling the kettle black if I've ever heard it. I think I'll keep my room just to spite you!"

Max clicked his tongue and turned his head, tipping the top of his cap over his burning cheeks. "Whatever, man. That's not true. Besides, I just so happened to get Cody as a roommate. The dude's got a clean streak a mile long and a pretty friggin' good Rice Krispy recipe, so I think I'll keep him, thanks!"

"Wait, dude really?" Ed blinked, face devoid of any emotion but mild curiosity. "You could be hittin' that every night." He pointed directly at Isaac, who turned beat red in the face.

"Ed!"

He only snorted and turned back to his packed supplies, waving Isaac's hissy fit off with a familial casualness. Isaac took a deep breath, letting the argument go because he knew it was better to- something Max knew thirteen-year-old Isaac never would have understood. Max's eyes fell to his forearm where Isaac had gripped and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. "Come on," he sounded exasperated, but he could see the smile itching to make an appearance. "I'll walk you back to your room."

There was only a floor between the two of them, a simple elevator ride away, but it still felt like three oceans and a desert. Max snickered as Isaac let the door close behind them. "I couldn't help but notice our resident scowl-machine didn't take the bait?"

Isaac looked to Max, cheeks dusting a much lighter pink than they had been when Ed was poking fun at him. He liked to think it was because it was him, because Isaac couldn't stay mad at him too long. "Max." His voice came low, like a warning- a little yellow flag Max was glad to trample over.

He smirked and nudged Isaac with his shoulder. "Weaboo Storm? Hurricane Broody? Ginger Sprinkles?"

Isaac rolled his eyes and nudged Max right back, albeit with a finality to the sway of his arm. "Shut up, Max!"

As they pressed the door for the elevator to come, a companionable silence fell over them. Standing there, waiting for the signal 'ding' of the sliding doors, they were quiet. There was no exchange of playful offenses or the irritated glances Max had become so accustomed to. The moment was welcome. It felt like time had stopped to leave them there at that very second, alone with nothing but the future ahead of them. It was just that, he supposed, there was no urgency between them, no fear of what was ahead or tension around each-other; all of that was gone, creeping away with every step they took forward. That was where Max focused, then- forward.

The elevator doors on the right slid open, and Max and Isaac fit through the door seamlessly without a word.

The elevator jolted as most elevators did, and thus began their short journey to the next level. Max watched the numbers on the wall light up as they grew closer to his floor, and for some odd reason, he felt serene. Nothing was wrong, for once. Spirits- threats, friends, grudges- they'd all come and go. He just didn't feel like a horrible fate was looming over his head anymore. Conall happened in such a short time after he'd become a spectral, he'd never really had the chance to take pride in honing his abilities. Now that all three threats had been met, he finally had the time to feel at peace with the paranatural world; he finally had time to focus on living, like a normal human being.

"I love you."

Isaac said it so calmly, so evenly that he almost didn't think he'd heard him right. Max glanced at him from the side, turned back to face the elevator doors, and then let his lips stretch into a small grin.

"I know."

Isaac chuckled and glared at Max, eyebrow raised as spiritedly as the smile on his face. He turned his head, then shook it with a sigh and faced the door of the elevator once more.

It wasn't long before the small box's chime rang in their ears, and the doors slid open before them with the ease of a fresh year.

Max reached out and grabbed Isaac's hand as they parted from the elevator, noting the shock of electricity that ran up his arm. The spark was familiar, and he rejoiced in every raised hair. Isaac let go, if only for a moment, to bring their palms together between them, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. Max pressed right back.

After all, he knew Isaac was feeling every bit of the electrical shock he felt.


End file.
